Whatever I've done
by Logospilgrim
Summary: Professor Snape is almost killed by Voldemort. The faculty members and student body are confronted by the sacrifices that their Potions Master has made throughout his lonely years.
1. Professor Snape broken by Voldemort

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Whatever I've done

by Logospilgrim

[_]

_This twisted, tortured mess  
this bed of sinfulness  
who's longing for some rest  
and feeling numb_

_an unbearable pain  
a beating in my brain  
that leaves the mark of cain  
right here inside_

_Is there something you need from me  
are you having your fun  
I never agreed to be  
your holy one_

_Whatever I've done  
I've been staring down the barrel of a gun_

Depeche Mode

[_]

"Professor Dumbledore... I had... I had another dream, sir."

The old wizard surveyed the boy who was standing before his desk and concealed his dread.

"Yes, Harry... Take a few deep breaths, and go on. Was it like the one you had about Voldemort killing Frank Bryce?"

Harry shuddered at the memory. That awful snake, curled by the fireplace... Wormtail inviting the doomed man inside the room at Voldemort's request... The horrified look on the man's face when he saw what was seated in the armchair... A flash of green light, and death.

As ghastly as that had been, the nightmare that had woken him moments earlier was much worse. Dawn had just begun to warm the horizon when he'd run to Dumbledore's office, not even bothering to get dressed.

"Yes, professor. But the man I saw wasn't dead, sir."

Dumbledore leaned forward and stared at Harry over his moon-shaped spectacles. "Did you recognize him?"

"It was... Professor Snape."

"Tell me exactly what you saw."

"He was in a dark room, lying on the floor. He was..." The boy's face grew red.

"Take your time, Harry."

"He... he wasn't wearing any clothes, sir. He had these big iron manacles around his ankles, his wrists and his neck, and his face was all pale, I mean, more than usual, and he was so skinny, and there was... blood everywhere. Sir."

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. "I fear Professor Snape's attempt to convince Voldemort of his continued loyalty was not successful." He glanced at Harry. "There is nothing we can do now, except hope," he said, his expression grim. "You can go back to bed now. And come to me straight away if you have another dream."

Harry nodded and returned to his dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, although he felt certain he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again.

[_]

The Boy Who Lived yawned, pushed his eggs and bacon away, and leaned his head upon his arms. He didn't want to shut his eyes, because every time he did, he could see blood dripping from Snape's battered limbs, from the cuts on his face, from the wounds on his body. Harry's stomach churned.

Then, someone poked him in the ribs and he jumped.

"Wake up, Harry! We're going to Hogsmeade today, aren't you excited?" Ron said. He sat down next to Harry and piled food on his plate. "Honeydukes, here I come."

"Oh, yeah, Hogsmeade... I'd forgotten." Harry slipped his fingers behind his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Forgotten? It's the last outing of the year before the summer holidays! After all that's happened, everybody's been looking forward to a bit of fun." Ron stuffed his mouth with ham and beans and reached for a freshly baked bread roll; Harry couldn't make out the mumbled sentence that followed.

Harry lowered his head upon his arms again. "Swallow your bloody food before trying to talk, will you?"

There was an audible gulp. "I said, most of the teachers are coming with us to make sure we're safe, but I reckon we can still have a good time, eh Harry?"

"Yeah, great."

Ron snorted and buttered another bread roll. "At least, Snape won't be there. I wonder where the greasy git could be? Not that I mind, the last two weeks in Potions have been a breeze. I bet he's been rubbing elbows with You Know Who."

"Snape." Harry's eyelids drooped and the sounds in the Great Hall faded away.

[_]

"Ah, Harry... Back again so soon?"

The disembodied voice echoing inside Harry's head made his heart lurch. It was a sound like melting ice. _Voldemort_.

He was having another nightmare, standing in the same terrible room. Flickering torches were casting distorted shadows upon the stone walls; the air was heavy with the smell of blood, sweat, and mouldering humidity.

Iron chains scraped the floor, and a long, ragged moan escaped the lone figure sprawled on the ground.

"Look, Harry. The man you hate most, besides me."

Harry wanted to press his hands against his ears, but couldn't move.

"Oh, come now. I know you've ground beetles to a fine powder, imagining they were Professor Snape. What could be better than seeing him shackled and in agony? You're enjoying this as much as I am."

"No, no, that's... that's not true," Harry said, desperately willing himself to awaken. He was unable to avert his gaze from the unbearable suffering that lined Snape's emaciated features.

"Don't lie, Harry. Your blood flows within me. We share a connection that goes beyond the limitations of time, space, and matter."

"No."

"Yes. And you will not wake from this dream until I allow it, Harry. You will watch. See how I reward traitors."

A low complaint emanated from Snape. "Head... master..."

"Dumbledore cannot save you now, unworthy servant."

A figure cloaked in black materialized near Snape. Beneath the hood, two red eyes were glinting. Voldemort's wand was already trained on the chained man at his feet.

"Stop," Harry said. "Stop it, you bastard!"

Voldemort pointed his wand at one of Snape's bound hands. "_Mobiliappendis_."

Snape gasped as his hand was raised from the floor and his arm was stretched, rivulets of blood running down the length of it.

"_Crucio skeletus appendis_."

Harry's gut turned to lead when he saw what happened next: the phalanges in each of Snape's fingers snapped, the popping sounds like gun pellets fired simultaneously.

Snape howled and lost consciousness.

"_Enervate sustanem_," Voldemort said.

Snape's eyes fluttered open, his face contorted and he screamed again. Voldemort waved his wand. The force that had been holding Snape's hand up vanished, and the shackle circling his wrist hit the stone floor with a loud clang.

"Professor," Harry said, his voice tight. _I have to wake up. Have to stop this somehow._

"He does not know you are here, foolish child." Voldemort glanced at Snape. "Pity. Imagine how thrilled he would be. Shall we continue, then?"

The Potions Master tried to drag himself away from Voldemort, but he was too weak to do much more than close his uninjured fingers around one of the chains and pull once.

"There is no escape, Severus," Voldemort said, and repeated the curse on Snape's left hand.

Snape's body convulsed and sweat streamed down his bruised face, long strands of hair matted against his jutting cheekbones.

Voldemort pointed his wand at one of Snape's wrists. "_Crucio skeletus articulis_." The bones shattered with a muffled crack.

Snape's agonized shriek resounded across the room.

Voldemort aimed the wand at his victim's other wrist, then at his knuckles."_Crucio_ _skeletus articulis_."

"Headmaster!"

Voldemort laughed and pursued a relentless path down Snape's body, striking his elbows, knees, and ankles, until the Potions Master's breathless howls had given way to rasping wails.

"Headmaster... help me..."

"You are an even greater fool than I thought, Severus, if you believe that the old wizard is the least concerned about your fate. After all, he sent you to me, didn't he? Do you think he didn't know what I would to do you?"

"I swear you'll pay for this, Voldemort," Harry said.

Voldemort got down on one knee. "Oh, Severus... to think you can still be my favorite plaything." He cradled Snape's head against his thigh, holding it fast, and pointed his wand at Snape's back. "_Crucio skeletus vertebrum_."

A succession of jolts rocked Snape's body as five of his vertebrae split in half. A terrible gurgling sound bubbled from his throat.

After laying Snape's head down with exaggerated care, Voldemort stood up and dusted his hands. "I believe I shall save the internal organs for later, Harry." He threw a glance at the Potions Master. "_Enervate finite._"

Snape's chest heaved, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, his black eyes clouded over, and his eyelids mercifully drifted shut.

[_]

"Professor!"

Harry's anguished scream rang across the hall as his eyes snapped open. He fell off the bench, his face ghostly white.

"Harry! Harry! What's the matter?" Ron and Hermione asked, rushing to his side.

"The professor... I have to get to Dumbledore before it's too late."

Hermione put a hand on his arm. "What's wrong, Harry? Did you have another dream? Which professor? Is someone in danger? It's... it's Professor Snape, isn't it?"

"I have to get to Dumbledore," Harry said. He scampered to his feet. "We've got to do something..."

He sprinted from the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione at his heels.

"Something about what?" Ron said.

"Voldemort is trying to kill Professor Snape."

"What are you talking about?" Ron said, panting.

They skidded to a halt in front of the gargoyle that guarded the secret staircase to Dumbledore's office.

Harry took a big gulp of air. "Sugar Bombs."

The three Gryffindors ran up the stairs and Harry banged on the door, which swung back to let them in.

"Headmaster!" Harry said. He crashed into the old wizard and clung to his robes. "Professor Snape... Voldemort... He..."

To Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione's shock, Harry burst into tears.

"Harry, take a moment, catch your breath," Dumbledore said.

Harry wrestled against Dumbledore's grasp. "No, no! You don't understand! Voldemort was killing Professor Snape! I saw it... We have to stop him!"

"Harry, we're doing everything in our power to locate the Professor-"

"That's not enough! There's no way anyone can get to him in time! You didn't see... Voldemort was breaking every bone in his body." His voice quivered. "I could see him doing it."

Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes filled with sadness. "If there was _anything_ more I could do, I would."

Harry was about to retort when he was overcome by a wave of drowsiness. A wide yawn stretched his mouth, and he swayed.

Dumbledore gripped him by the shoulders. "Harry, what is it?"

"I'm... I'm falling asleep again." Harry blinked and shook his head, but it was no use. "Professor... he's going to force me to dream."

"Ron, hand me the small blue vial on the shelf over there, quickly," Dumbledore said.

Harry's knees buckled; Dumbledore caught him beneath the arms, steered him towards the couch, and lay him down upon it.

"Professor, please... don't let me fall asleep," Harry said.

"Open your mouth, and I shall give you a potion for dreamless sleep," Dumbledore said, and tipped the vial against Harry's lips.

Harry swallowed. "Don't want to sleep..."

"I will be right by your side."

Harry sighed and then was silent.

Dumbledore turned to Ron and Hermione. "Don't worry about your friend. He will be fine with me. You two go and join your classmates, everyone will be leaving for Hogsmeade shortly."

"Yes, sir," Ron and Hermione said.

[_]

"You truly must despise Professor Snape, Harry," Voldermort said. "You can't seem to stay away for very long, can you?"

"This is impossible," Harry said. "The potion..."

"My power is too great for a mere potion to interfere with my wishes. Just look at what I've done to your Potions Master." He gestured towards Snape, contempt dripping from his voice.

Everywhere bones had been shattered, dark purple bruises had formed on Snape's flesh. The professor's face was a mask of pain, and each time he drew a breath, it was to plead for release. "Let... let me die... let me..."

"I'm the one you want, Voldemort," Harry said.

The Dark Lord gave a malevolent chuckle. "I regret to inform you that I am otherwise occupied at the moment." His wand hovered above Snape's twisted body.

Harry's eyes widened and his fists shook.

"_Crucio skeletus thoraxiam_," Voldemort said.

A strangled cry was wrenched from Snape's throat. Thin streams of blood flowed from his mouth; ribs splintered by Voldemort's curse had torn into the Potion Master's lungs.

The magnitude of Snape's ordeal left Harry numb with horror. Professor Snape, a man whom the majority of students at Hogwarts had so often dreamed would perish, was dying before his very eyes.

Then Voldemort said, "Begone from my sight, wretch," and Snape Disapparated along with his heavy iron fetters. "Right. Time to move on to other things. Can't stand about waiting until he snuffs it, can we, Harry?"

"Professor," Harry said. He stared at the pool of blood where the Potions Master had lain. "No... Noo-"

[_]

"...oo-"

Harry awoke, his scream cut short by the realization that Dumbledore was sitting next to him and shaking him by the shoulders.

"Merlin's beard, Harry, I couldn't wake you. "I cannot believe that Voldemort was able to reach you through the potion and my spells... What did you see? Is Severus..."

"Voldemort sent him someplace. He doesn't have much time, headmaster-"

"I want you to stay here. I will find Professor Snape."

"How do you know where-"

"Stay here, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice stern. "Voldemort appears to have made his point."

The old wizard strode out of the office and placed a charm on the door, leaving Harry alone with the indelible image of Snape gasping for air.

[_]

"Two butterbeers, please," Hermione told Madam Rosmerta.

Rosmerta filled the tankards to the brim and set them down on the bar."Here you go, dear."

"Thank you." Hermione tried to smile, but her heart wasn't up to the challenge. She brought the tankards back to the small table where Ron was waiting, his eyebrows furrowed in a worried frown.

Hermione sat next to him. They sipped at their butterbeers without a word and glanced out the window by their table. Then Ron said, "Do you suppose Harry is all right?"

"Of course, he's all right," Hermione said, betraying slight hesitation. "He's with Professor Dumbledore."

Ron stared at his glass. "Yeah."

"I hope Professor Snape..."

"Yeah."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a bleak look.

"I never really, you know... wished anything that bad would happen to the greasy gi-"

Ron's confession was interrupted by a high pitched scream that came from outside the inn, and which was soon followed by several others, and shouting voices.

There was a rumble as the people inside the Three Broomsticks abruptly got to their feet, and more clattering noises as chairs were knocked over in the rush to find out what was going on. All the color drained from Hermione's face when she glimpsed her teacher sprawled in the middle of the street.

"Professor Snape!"

The Potions Master was lying amidst a cruel nest of tangled chains and shackles. He'd been stripped. His skin was glistening with blood and sweat; every inch of his body was covered with lacerations and bruises. But the worst was his face, which was distorted by agony, half-veiled by hair that was soaking with perspiration.

Pandemonium had irrupted both inside and outside the Three Broomsticks, and waves of students, witches and wizards poured from the inn. The Dark Mark was spreading overhead like an ominous black cloud. Most were running away from the scene, while others swarmed around the fallen Potions Master. Hermione saw the sixth-year Slytherin prefect remove his cloak and drape it over his Head of House with trembling hands. Then he yelled at the crowd. "Stand back! Keep away from the Professor!" He motioned three other Slytherins to stand between the dismayed onlookers and Snape. "Find Professor McGonagall!" he told a fourth Slytherin, who took off.

"Ron," Hermione said, "the Professor's turning blue."

Professor Snape's eyes, which had been screwed shut, were now wide open and panic-stricken. The Slytherin prefect knelt next to him and bent closer to his ear, chilled by the harsh sound of Snape's whistling breath.

"Professor, can you hear me, sir?"

Snape wheezed in response; he struggled to get air in lungs that were already filling with fluid.

"_Vitae sustanem_... _Vitae sustanem_! Oh, come on, professor..."

Filaments of blood ran over Snape's blue lips and down the sides of his chin.

"Please, hang on, sir... Professor McGonagall will be here any second..."

"Severus!"

The crowd parted to make way for Professor McGonagall who was racing to Snape's side.

"Help him, professor, he can't breathe," the prefect said through his tears.

She dropped to her knees.

"Severus, I knew this would happen, oh Severus..." She waved her wand in front of Snape's face. "_Oxygenus sustanem..._"

A brilliant ribbon of light snaked from the tip of her wand and slipped past Snape's lips.

Snape began to regain his natural color and his facial muscles relaxed slightly. His eyes locked with Professor McGonagall's. He mouthed her name.

"Severus, don't try to talk. _Dolorosa reducio_. _Alohamora totalis_."

All of his manacles fell asunder, exposing raw bands of swollen flesh, and he groaned.

"I am taking Professor Snape to St Mungo's," Professor McGonagall told the Slytherin prefect. "Go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him to meet me there."

"Yes, Professor."

Professor McGonagall placed her hand on Snape's forehead and they Disapparated.

[_]

Dumbledore stared out of one of the windows that lined the wall in Hogwarts's hospital wing. "Hogsmeade. Of all places... I was certain that I would find Severus on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, or at the front gates."

Professor McGonagall was sitting by the Potions Master's bedside and dabbing her eyes with a large handkerchief. "Albus, do you think... Will Severus recover?"

"Only time will tell."

McGonagall pressed the handkerchief against her lips, muffling a small sob. She then reached out and touched the back of Snape's hand, her fingers skimming the bandages that wrapped it, as if she were afraid of hurting him. "I knew it, Albus. I knew it would come to this sooner or later."

"I honestly believed it wouldn't. But I was... wrong," he said, choking on the last word.

As soon as Snape had been stable enough, Dumbledore and McGonagall had brought him back to Hogwarts, where he would be safer than at St Mungo's. The stretcher carrying Snape's motionless body floating between them, they had made their way down the school's vast corridors. Clusters of students watched as Professor Snape drifted by, and many of them could hardly restrain their sorrow at the gruesome sight.

A white sheet concealed him up to his breastbone, and his arms were folded across his chest. Wounds that had refused to heal properly had reopened during the journey; fresh blood stained the bandages that covered him all the way to his neck. No sneer marred the perfect stillness of his face now. It was like looking at someone whom they'd never before seen. His lips were slightly parted, and despite the dark circles that ringed his eyes, the exhaustion that had carved hollows in his cheeks, a deep tranquility permeated his features. It was as though he somehow knew he'd been liberated from a burden he was no longer capable of enduring.

When the somber procession was nearing the hospital wing, a first year Slytherin came closer and whispered, "Professor..."

"He will be fine," Dumbledore told the woeful girl. "You will all be able to see Professor Snape very soon."

The girl had sniffed and gazed at the Potions Master in shock. When she'd started shaking, she was quickly yanked back by a group of Slytherins.

Madam Pomfrey approached her unconscious patient, interrupting Dumbledore's gloomy reflections.

"He seems to be resting peacefully, Poppy," he said.

"Well, he's in good hands now. It's better for him to be at Hogwarts than with a bunch of strangers who-" She swallowed and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. "Who wouldn't understand all that he's been through."

Dumbledore was aware she wasn't just referring to his latest encounter with Voldemort.

The mediwitch ran her wand over Snape's battered figure and muttered another string of spells. "There. When he wakes up, I'll be able to give him some potions... for the pain."

"Things will have to be different from now on, Albus," McGonagall said.

"Don't worry, Minerva. He will no longer have to suffer alone."

There was a soft, shuffling noise. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey turned around and saw Harry, Hermione and Ron hovering at the edge of the room. Behind them, a crowd of students were massed in the doorway. They hissed at the Gryffindors.

"Go on, go on! Dumbledore won't send _you_ three away!"

A few Slytherins shoved them forward.

Dumbledore curved his finger and beckoned the three Gryffindors. McGonagall's lips thinned.

The pack of students at the door stopped whispering. Harry, Hermione and Ron walked towards Professor Snape's bedside, careful not to make any noise.

"We've... we've brought a card for the professor," Hermione said softly, and held it out to Professor McGonagall. It shook in her hand.

"Thank you, Hermione," McGonagall said. She put it on the bedside table. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Harry was staring at Snape. "It's all my fault, Headmaster."

"Of course not. There is nothing you could have done. But Professor Snape is safe now, and his spying days are over."

"What if Voldemort summons him? Won't the Dark Mark burn his arm?"

"I don't think the Dark Lord has any more use for Severus, Harry. What we need to worry about is helping Professor Snape to get well again."

"Will he?" Hermione said. She stared at his bandaged hands.

"We don't know yet, dear," Pomfrey said.

"Oh."

"It's too early to say, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "When the professor awakes, it will be easier to determine how the curses are affecting him."

Hermione's eyes grew bright and she chewed on her lip to stop herself from crying.

"Why didn't Voldemort just kill the Professor?" Harry said. "I thought he wanted me to see him die."

"I think Voldemort would prefer that we all see him suffer, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Ron shuffled his feet.

"There were very few at Hogwarts who knew of the danger he faced on a daily basis," Professor McGonagall said. She patted Snape's forehead with a damp cloth. "Even when Voldemort was defeated, the Death Eaters remained a threat."

"Long ago, Professor Snape chose to take on a role that was as dangerous as it was crucial to our efforts. Each of you saw in Professor Snape exactly what he intended you to see," Dumbledore said.

"So, he made everyone hate him on _purpose_?" Hermione said. "Oh... He must have been... very lonely."

Harry and Ron exchanged guilty looks.

"He was," Dumbledore replied. "Yes, he was." The Headmaster sighed. "I daresay it had a rather negative impact on his disposition."

A small, sad smile curved McGonagall's mouth. "Severus was never what I would have called pleasant... But some of us know what he kept hidden-"

"He moved!" Hermione said.

"Severus?" Minerva said. She peered at him, and a slight frown creased her brow. She touched his forehead with her palm and her frown deepened. "Poppy, his fever is rising again."

Pomfrey flicked her wand. "_Dolorosa reducio. Feverosem reducio._"

All eyes were upon Professor Snape, and there was a collective gasp when his eyelids suddenly fluttered.

He inhaled and froze with a grunt of pain.

McGonagall placed a gentle hand upon the side of his face. "Severus, try to keep still. You're home. Everything is going to be all right."

"H -Hogwarts..." Snape said, his voice a faint rasp, his eyes darting around. His breath came in small, labored puffs.

"Yes, you are in the hospital wing," Dumbledore said. "We brought you back here after you were stabilized at St Mungo's."

Snape grimaced and sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip. "Hurts... to breathe."

The Headmaster glanced at Pomfrey, who hurried towards the cabinet where the potions were stored. She returned almost immediately, clutching a vial filled with a pale blue liquid.

"Drink this, Severus," Pomfrey said. She slipped a hand beneath his head and raised it from the pillow. "Your lungs are still healing, dear." She slowly poured the liquid into his mouth and he swallowed reflexively.

"There. Now, just relax. It's time to rest, dear."

But Snape shook his head. "Headmaster..."

"Yes, Severus? I am here."

"Headmaster... I... I failed."

"Albus," Minerva said, seeing the anguish building in Snape's face. "I don't think Severus would want-"

"Minerva, I know we have always tried to shield the children from any knowledge of this, but... Voldemort wanted us to see exactly how cruel he can be. Perhaps the time has come to let the children witness firsthand the pain and suffering wrought by true evil."

They all watched as Snape managed to shift one leg a scant inch, then the other, his jaw tensing.

"You shouldn't try to move yet, professor," Pomfrey said.

Snape ignored her and painfully dragged one arm higher across his chest

"Severus, don't," Dumbledore said.

But it was too late. The Potions Master looked down, fear washing over his features. "Headmaster... I can't move my hands." He began to shake. He thought of his beloved cauldron, of his mortar and pestle. How could he cut the precious herbs with the delicacy potions required now? "I can't move my hands." There was a tinge of hysteria in his voice and tears ran down his cheeks.

McGonagall caressed Snape's hair and the three Gryffindors slowly backed away, fearful of being seen by their distressed Potions Master, who'd yet to notice they had been standing nearby.

"You're still healing, Severus," Dumbledore said.

The students who were gathered in the doorway listened, wide-eyed, to the mournful cry that rose from their Potions Master.

His dark locks of hair were plastered against his brow, his face and neck shining with sweat. "Killed me... He should have just..."

"Please, calm down, Severus," McGonagall said. "You've barely had time to begin to heal-"

Snape threw his head back and screamed as the pain flared.

"Poppy! Why isn't the potion working?" Dumbledore said.

"I don't understand, Headmaster." Her eyes darted toward the potions cabinet. She gripped her wand, trying to make her hand stop quivering, and whispered a number of incantations. "The curses are... it's like they've fused to his bones. I've never seen anything like this before." She hastened to fetch another potion and held the vial against Snape's lips. "Drink, Severus, open..."

He gulped the cool liquid down. Then his back arched and he screamed again.

"This can't be happening!" Pomfrey said. "I've just given him one of my strongest potions... He brewed it himself..."

Harry, Hermione and Ron, along with the other students present, were frozen with horror, and many had started to cry.

"Albus!" McGonagall said sharply.

The Headmaster nodded.

McGonagall got up from her chair and approached the stunned pupils. "Return to your Houses. The professor is very ill." Her voice caught in her throat. "You will be allowed to see him later. Come along now, come along." She herded the students, closed the door behind her and led them down the corridor.

Dumbledore gathered the Potions Master in his arms. "I should have prevented this... I never should have let him return to Voldemort..."

Snape's eyes were squeezed shut, and his teeth were clamped; he shuddered from head to toe, his bandaged hands like claws in his lap.

"_Dolorosa extremis reducio_," Pomfrey said.

Snape's limbs grew limp and he slumped against the Headmaster.

Pomfrey let out a shaking breath. "Thank heaven, wand magic still has an effect on him."

"But not potions," Dumbledore said. "Who could have foreseen such a thing?"

"It doesn't seem possible. A potion would be so much better for Severus in the state he's in..."

The Headmaster eased Snape back onto the pillows and pulled the blanket over him. "Perhaps Voldemort's new body has given him powers we had not anticipated." His features became thoughtful. "I fear Harry's blood may have something to do with Severus's condition."

"What do you mean, Headmaster?"

"Harry's... dislike of the Professor may have given Voldemort the ability to take Severus's most formidable ally away from him. His potions."

"Professor Dumbledore, you cannot be serious..."

"His hands have been destroyed, and he did not react to the potions you gave him. Severus has been crippled in the worst possible way. An immeasurable loss..." Dumbledore considered the unconscious man who lay upon the bed. How did that muggle saying go? _The road to hell is paved with good intentions..._ And when Harry had dreamt of Severus's ordeal, the boy had seemed immune to the effects of the dreamless sleep potion, as though the Potions Master had become powerless to protect him.

"Poppy, I must ask you not to speak a word of what we have just discussed with anyone."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"There are several things that must be dealt with now, but I shall return in a little while. Inform me immediately if there is any change."

[_]

In the Great Hall that evening, the atmosphere was strangely subdued. The students ate without enthusiasm and couldn't stop glancing at the head table, where Dumbledore and the other teachers sat with a grim expressions.

Finally, dinner was over and the plates were cleared, but no one moved from their seats.

At last, Dumbledore rose and all heads turned towards him. A great hush settled upon the immense room.

"Children, as you no doubt have heard, Professor Snape is in the hospital wing. He has been seriously injured by Voldemort. Many of you saw what happened in Hogsmeade."

The Slytherin sixth-year prefect stiffened and glared around the room.

"There are things about Professor Snape that only very few of you are aware of. It is now time for the truth to be told. Professor Snape was a Death Eater."

Whispers echoed across the hall. The Slytherins looked distinctly uncomfortable. Then Dumbledore resumed his speech and the room was silent once more.

"Shortly after joining the Dark Lord's minions, he became our most highly placed and valued spy. Professor Snape's life has been in constant danger ever since that fateful day. His Dark Mark told him that Voldemort had not been destroyed, and he was determined to make certain that his students would be prepared when Voldemort reappeared. This is one of the reasons why the Potions Master was... a demanding teacher. I know that many of you thought he was harsh, and difficult. You were not wrong to think so, but you must understand that Professor Snape had very good reasons to be that way."

All of the students bowed their heads, unable to meet Dumbledore's gaze.

"Professor Snape also had to maintain the pretense of someone who was in league with Voldemort and his Death Eaters in order to continue his mission. This was sometimes very hard on him. As the years went by, he..." Dumbledore faltered.

The students again stared at the Headmaster.

"He began to suffer because of the isolation required by the nature of his sworn duty. This often had, shall we say, unfortunate repercussions on his mood."

Rueful smiles tugged at the students' lips and those of the teachers, although many eyes also grew moist.

"Professor Snape has toiled alone for most of his life. The time has come for him to know that his efforts have not gone unappreciated. It is time for the professor to be told that he has not endured so much in vain. To know that he is not truly alone. When he is feeling better, those of you who would like to see him may do so. Your Heads of House will inform you when the visits will be scheduled. Slytherin, to your honored House goes the privilege of being first. Your prefect shall work with me to coordinate visitation hours. After that, those of you who belong to the other Houses will be allowed to see Professor Snape in turn."

[_]

The next morning, Snape's bandages were changed again. Pomfrey had first given him a sponge bath while he slept, then rinsed the sweat from his hair and left it to dry on its own.

"There's not so much blood," Pomfrey had told the Headmaster as she magicked long strips of cloth around Snape's arms. "The hexed wounds are healing more slowly than they should. And there's still an awful lot of bruising. Have Minerva and Filius found anything in the library?"

"No yet, I'm afraid."

"They haven't found anything at St Mungo's either," Pomfrey said.

"Was he in as much pain as yesterday when he woke?"

"I don't believe so, but he's completely exhausted from the ache in his joints. They're still rather swollen. If only I could give him a potion..."

"I know, Poppy, I know," Dumbledore said, patting her shoulder.


	2. Vulnerable and hungry

[_]

A few hours later, Snape stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore said.

Small tremors ran through Snape's body. "Headmaster."

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine."

Pomfrey brought him a glass of water. "Here, have something to drink, Severus. Little sips, we don't want to shock your system."

He shook his head.

"Professor Snape, do _not_ make me scold you." She tipped the glass against his mouth. Water trickled past his parted lips, and he swallowed.

"Perhaps you should eat as well," Dumbledore said.

"No," Snape said, a bit green.

"Some chicken broth, I think. Nothing too heavy," Pomfrey said. "I'll get a house-elf to bring up a platter right away." She walked away from the bed and beyond the main ward, leaving Snape and Dumbledore alone.

The Headmaster touched the side of Snape's throat. "Still feverish." He waved his wand. "_Feverosem reducio_."

"It's nothing." Snape twitched._ Bugger off._

"I disagree. And I'm not the only one, Severus."

"I don't care." Snape flinched again, and grit his teeth.

"That's enough talking for now. Here comes Poppy with your soup."

The Headmaster magicked the bed so that Snape's upper body was raised to a half-sitting position.

Pomfrey set the platter on the bedside table and picked up the bowl of soup and a spoon. She filled it with broth, blew on it, and said, "Open up, Severus."

"No. I can't eat."

Pomfrey slipped the spoon past his lips anyway, and he couldn't help but swallow and glare.

She gave him another spoonful. "You poor dear. When was the last time you ate?"

He shrugged, closing his eyes.

Pomfrey clucked her tongue.

She was about to give him a third spoonful of broth when his face turned waxen.

"Severus?" Pomfrey asked. She reached for a large bowl.

"Sick," Snape said, before throwing up in the bowl that Pomfrey held for him. There was very little for him to vomit, and he gagged painfully for several minutes before his stomach calmed down. Pomfrey gave him some water so he could rinse out his mouth and he sagged back against his pillows, his body drenched with sweat, his breathing quick and shallow.

Dumbledore wiped Snape's face and throat. "We'll try again later, Severus."

"Whatever." Snape turned away.

Dumbledore walked to the other side of the bed, and sat down again.

"Leave me," Snape said.

"Severus..."

Tears leaked from Snape's closed eyelids, and he scowled at his despicable weakness.

"Severus... You are not alone."

"I can no longer live... any other way."

"I understand, Severus. Part of the blame lies with me. But you cannot go on as you have."

More silent tears streaked Snape's face. He had never felt so helpless or vulnerable, and it was even more unbearable than the pain. He imagined himself, safe within the impregnable walls of his dungeons, putting an end to it all. He had plenty of potions at hand that would do the trick. Yes, more than enough to choose from...

At hand... That was the problem, wasn't it. Or part of it. His hands were useless, and he was at the mercy of a treacherous body, incapable of moving a single muscle without searing agony. The spasms jolted through him without warning, making him fearful of time. Each interminable minute threatened to steal what little sanity he felt he possessed and forced him to contemplate the humiliating dead end his life had become. He realized that even if he could surreptitiously Accio an appropriate potion from his personal stocks, he still wouldn't be able to open it.

And then, he felt delicate fingers wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"Severus."

He shut his eyes tighter.

"Severus, I know you can hear me."

"Minerva... not now," Snape said.

She seated herself next to the bed."I see you're hard at work sinking deeper in the pit of despair you like to call home. I do hope you realize we're all familiar with that particular hobby of yours."

Snape groaned. That's what it had come to. His colleagues were determined to smoke him out of the security of his cool burrow. They would be trying to cheer him up next.

He attempted to inject his tone with menace, but only managed to croak."Minerva..."

McGonagall put a finger on his lips. "We'll continue this discussion when you're feeling better. Right now, you need to rest a little."

Snape huffed, too drained to bicker with her. She began to stroke his head; at first the gentle touch was strange and irritating, and then it was almost... soothing. Her fingers on his hair were distracting him from the constant ache in his limbs, from the thoughts that wracked his mind.

There was the quiet murmur of a spell and he could feel himself melting away...

"It's not so terrible, is it?" McGonagall said.

His breathing deepened, but he remained on the edge of slumber for a few minutes, part of his consciousness clinging to the odd sensation of fingers caressing his hair.

[_]

When Severus opened his eyes again, the deep reds and yellows of the setting sun were warming the tree-cropped horizon.

He yawned and went to stretch, the movement stopped short by a fierce pain that ripped through his body and made him yelp.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to indulge the desire to stretch for a while longer," McGonagall said. "_Dolorosa reducio. Pacem spiritus. Nauseam finite_."

Snape sighed. An odd sense of peace washed over him, more comforting than the decreased pain in his body. He even found that he was a bit hungry.

As if this was something she had expected, McGonagall picked up a small bowl filled with a very light pudding and began stirring it.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You should eat something now, Severus. Don't worry. You won't get sick."

"What is it?"

"Vanilla pudding. It's mostly water. Very easy to digest, and it won't irritate your throat."

His face grew sour.

"You must be improving if you're going to be picky. Here." She brought a spoonful to his lips. "Try it."

He rolled his eyes."Very well."

Professor McGonagall started to feed the bed-ridden Potions Master, who reluctantly submitted to her care. Or at least, who behaved as he'd conditioned himself to. However, the substance was more palatable than he'd suspected, and before he knew it, he'd eaten the bowl's entire contents. He had to admit that it had helped.

She put the empty bowl back on the bedside table and gave him a bit of water."How are you feeling now?"

"Better. Thank you."

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "You're welcome."

"Minerva..."

"Yes?"

"You don't have to stay here... on my account."

"I have no intention of listening to such nonsense. Now. Would you like me to read to you?"

"You're not... going to go away, are you."

"I'm afraid not."

"Fine, then. Read to me. Whatever."

"Shall we start with a card?" She picked up the card Hermione had brought when she, Ron and Harry had crept in the hospital wing the day before.

His eyes narrowed. "A what?"

"A get-well card. From some of your students."

He blinked, and his eyes darted from the card she held, to her face.

She took advantage of his surprise to begin reading it. "Dear Professor Snape, I'm sorry I called you a greasy git, and hope you feel better soon. Ron Weasley."

McGonagall almost laughed out loud when she saw his nonplussed expression.

"Minerva, they're terrible liars."

"Dear Professor Snape, I miss you in Potions class. You are the best Potions Master Hogwarts has ever had. Please, get well soon. Hermione Granger." She cocked her eyebrow. "You're right. They _should_ be expelled for such bald lies. I think I'll speak with the headmaster right away."

Snape glared at her and said, "I suppose... _Potter's_ well-wishes are next?" a dangerous hint of velvet softness infusing his raspy voice.

"Dear Professor Snape, I never thanked you for trying to save my life during the Quidditch game. I'm sorry. I hope you get well soon. Harry Potter."

McGonagall set the card back on the bedside table, folded her hands in her lap, and watched the subtle play of emotions flitting across his face.

"So... I am a hero now... am I. What luck."

"You won't make the cover of Witch Weekly's anytime soon, if that's what you're wondering."

"Minerva, you know perfectly well... what I'm talking about! Bloody _hell_... So then, what heartwarming praises has the Headmaster heaped upon my... my pathetic carcass?"

"All right, Severus, that's enough-"

"Like hell it is!" His breathing was accelerating, and his long face was streaked with perspiration. "It's... poor Professor Snape, now, is it?" His fury surged when he realized that his eyes had begun to water.

"Severus, I must insist-"

"Where is that... infernal Poppy with her damned potions?" His voice cracked. His joints suddenly felt as though they were on fire again. He pulled his lips over his teeth and choked back a groan.

McGonagall gripped his head between her hands. "Severus, listen to me."

After a few moments, he looked up at her between strands of dark hair.

"I care about you. And I will help you adjust to all of this. Do you understand?"

"I... I need a potion."

"Potions no longer have any effect on you, Severus. We have been relying upon other methods to deal with your pain."

Snape gave a tiny shake of the head. "Potions... have no effect?" His Adam's apple bobbed. "What are... what are you talking about?"

McGonagall took out her wand.

"Get me a potion. A potion... Now," Snape said.

She rose without a word, walked to the potions cabinet, and returned with a vial. Let him sniff. He nodded, tension lining his face.

McGonagall brought the vial to his lips, and he gulped the potion down.

The pain did not diminish.

"Impossible... this is impossible..."

"I'm sorry, Severus. We're not sure how this can be happening."

He began to tremble. "What has Voldemort... done to me?"

"Shhhh... _Pacem spiritus_... _Dolorosa reducio sustanem_..." McGonagall said softly.

He moaned, and all of his muscles relaxed.

"It'll be all right, Severus." She put her wand down and dabbed his face with a cloth. "I promise."

Snape's throat worked, and he bit back a harsh reply. He knew she was doing her best to help him, but he preferred doing everything alone. Asking for help had rarely been an option. Whether this was the consequence of choices he'd made, or something that had been thrust upon him because of circumstances beyond his control, mattered little in the end.

He let himself get used to her touch again as she finished wiping his face. It would be ridiculous to pretend he didn't need help this time: he could hardly _move_. Perhaps this was a lesson in humility.

He snorted.

"What are you scoffing at now?" She folded the moist cloth and laid it across his wide forehead.

"I was thinking... that this entire situation might eventually crush my pride."

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up and she laughed. "Heavens, no."

"Isn't this a dream come true for most?"

Her laughter ebbed away. "Not like this. Dear Severus. So many things should have turned out differently."

The way she spoke his name startled him, and a blush warmed his cheekbones. It felt so peculiar to be addressed with such tenderness. He was torn between withdrawing into himself and opening up to her. Between snarling... and mellowing.

Snape scowled inwardly. It was obvious that Voldemort had done irreparable damage to his mind as well as the rest of his body.

"But you need to sleep now," McGonagall said. "Shall I return tomorrow to see how you're doing?"

"If you wish," Snape said after a moment.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then. Around lunchtime, and in the evening. Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight."

[_]

The next morning, when McGonagall arrived at the hospital wing to check on Snape before her classes began, Poppy hurried over to her.

"Minerva, thank goodness you're here."

"You look like you haven't slept a wink, Poppy."

"He had a bad night. Kept waking up, yelling. He was sweating so much... Merlin's beard, his bandages and sheets were drenched. I took the bandages off and tried another spell, St Mungo's idea... He calmed down for a while after that." She blew out her breath, trying to tuck wayward strands of hair back into her loosening bun.

"I'll watch over him for now," McGonagall said. Then she looked at his hands and gasped.

She remembered when the mediwitches at St Mungo's had carefully rebuilt the bones in his hands only two days ago; although the damage was severe, she had still hoped that it would not be permanent.

Evidently, Voldemort had had other plans.

Snape's long fingers, once so graceful, were now twisted claws. His knuckles and wrists were swollen and deformed.

"I don't think the cuts are going to bleed again. I thought I'd never get rid of those hexes. I was just about to bandage his hands again," Poppy said.

"Yes, quickly. If he should see this-"

"See... what..."

Both women jumped at the faint sound of Snape's tired voice.

Pomfrey draped another white sheet over him and shrouded his body up to his neck.

"Merlin, I didn't realize you were awake, Severus," McGonagall said.

Snape's eyes were still closed and his face was almost deathly white beneath the bruises.

"What... were you talking about..."

"Nothing, Severus," McGonagall said, stroking his black locks. She frowned, and examined one of the long strands twined around her fingers.

Some of the hairs had turned silver.

_Oh, Severus..._

"Minerva... I... I'm hungry."

"Would you like some eggs and chips?" Pomfrey asked. "Or porridge?"

"Porridge."

"I'll be right back."

He opened his eyes, but the effort of keeping them open was too great and he closed them again.

"Where's... the Headmaster?"

"He's taken over your classes for the rest of the term," McGonagall said.

A smile touched Snape's lips. "Serves him right."

"Severus, you are terrible."

"No, Longbottom is terrible."

"He wouldn't be if you didn't terrify him so. Although I do believe he is working on a card for you."

"Brave _and_ stupid. Typical Gryffindor."

"Severus, shush. Here comes Poppy with your breakfast."

Pomfrey walked in with a steaming bowl on a platter. "Here you are, Severus."

He moistened his lips, and they parted in anticipation as Pomfrey gave the bowl to McGonagall.

"My stars. Professor Snape is in a cooperative mood," McGonagall said.

Snape arched one of his fine eyebrows.

She magicked the bed upright and began to feed him.

After a few spoonfuls, he began to regain some of his coloring. The bowl was almost empty when his head lolled to one side and his light snores drifted from the bed.

Pomfrey and McGonagall smiled at each other.

"Maybe he'll be able to sleep a few hours this time," Pomfrey said. "It's hard to tell when it's going to hit him again."

"Should I stay?"

"No, no, you already have a lot on your plate, Minerva. I'll ask one of the house-elves to keep an eye on him while I take a nap, once I've bandaged his hands." She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. "I'll have another house-elf bring up some nightshirts for him. You know how much he loves hospital gowns."

"I'll be back this evening, Poppy," McGonagall said with a soft chuckle.

[_]

As soon as Dumbledore entered the dungeons for the first double Potions session of the day, dozens of voices piped up, barraging him with questions about Snape's condition.

The Headmaster held his hands up. "Children, if you'll quiet down for a moment-"

"Headmaster, when can we visit Professor Snape?" Harry asked.

"Patience, Harry-"

"Potter, quit trying to hog OUR Head of House! The Headmaster said Slytherins could see him first!"

"Bugger off, Malfoy!"

"Harry, language," Dumbledore said, wagging his finger. "Mr. Malfoy, as I believe I've already stated, Slytherins will be the first to see the professor when he is well enough."

Malfoy shot Harry with a smug look.

"Naturally, within each House, upperclass will have priority. The other Houses will follow according to point standing. Before we start, I wanted to let you know that I will be teaching this class for the rest of the term. Now, if you'll all open your books at page 45... I don't believe Professor Snape would be impressed to find his students dawdling in class, would he? Chop chop," he said, and clapped his hands twice.

The children grudgingly flipped open their potions manuals.

"Before we begin, I want you all to draw up a list of ingredients. I will give a basic overview of the potion. Then, I will call upon some of you to select an ingredient and explain to the class why you think it's important. If you would like to suggest alternatives, by all means do so."

A number of groans resounded across the classroom.

Dumbledore's lesson went well until it was time for Ron to discuss his idea for a substitute ingredient.

"What if we used boiled toadguts, instead of the powdered kind? I think it would be better if we used the boiled kind, instead of the powdered one, and adjusted the amount of water. Because boiled toadguts are more potent.""

"Weasley, even a first year wouldn't come up with something so stupid," Malfoy said.

"Mr. Malfoy, mind your tongue. This will be a civilized discussion. You will have a chance to share your knowledge with us in a few minutes," Dumbledore said. "Now... Who else can explain why Mr. Weasley's idea is flawed? What adjustments are required in order for boiled toadguts to be effective in this particular potion?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"They would have to be immersed in toadblood for three and a half hours beforehand."

"Correct. One point to Gryffindor. Very good, Miss Granger. Professor Snape would be proud of you."

Hermione flushed to the roots of her hair.

The rest of the class went along in that vein, except for a bit of shoving at the ingredients cabinet.

"Oh, I remember Potions class, when I was a lad," Dumbledore said. "Did a bit of elbowing at the potions cabinet myself. That is, until the sad, sad day when..." He shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Well, the less said, the better, actually..."

The student exchanged nervous glances and stopped jostling each other immediately.

[_]

"Did he get a chance to rest this afternoon?" McGonagall asked Pomfrey when she walked in the hospital ward that evening, accompanied by Dumbledore.

"A little more than last night. It's so frustrating. No matter what I do, the pain comes back." She thought for a moment and said, "He'd probably disagree, but it seems to help when someone is there with him. Keeps his mind distracted."

"Perhaps I should allow the Slytherin prefects to see him tomorrow," Dumbledore said.

"That might be a good idea," Pomfrey said. "He asked about his House. He wants to make certain the Slytherins are coming along with their revision."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his moon-shaped glasses. "All the more reason for the prefects to pay him a visit, then. Since Severus is fretting."

The Potions Master was half-awake and sitting in bed, which was still in its upright position. He was wearing a grey nightgown and his bandaged hands were gathered in his lap.

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"Headmaster. I see you're... still in one piece. I take it... the little dunderheads didn't blow up my dungeons?"

"On the contrary, Severus. They were a credit to your teaching skills. They performed most admirably."

This left Snape, for once, speechless. When he recovered from his shock, he said, "What about... Longbottom? How did _his_ potion turn out?"

"He had one or two minor setbacks, but..."

Snape snorted.

"But," Dumbledore said, "he worked with more dedication than anyone else in the class. I don't think you realize how much he needs your approbation, Severus."

"Headmaster." Snape shook his head and shut his eyes wearily. "Don't treat me like an imbecile. The boy doesn't care what I think. None of them do."


	3. Respitere beatificus

"I will leave it up to them to prove you wrong, my boy," the Headmaster said.

"Oh, joy. More tawdry and dubious get-well cards, I suppose?"

"I've heard just about enough of this," McGonagall said. She shooed Dumbledore away and touched Snape's cheek. "Your temperature is rising again. Little wonder." She inched closer to the bed-ridden Potions Master. "Now listen to me, Severus. I want you to rest, and stop brooding. It's only making you worse. Is that clear?"

Snape sighed. "I am at your mercy, Minerva. God help me."

Dumbledore repressed a smile.

"I'm glad to see we have an understanding," McGonagall said. "_Feverosem reducio_. _Respitere beatificus_."

Snape fell asleep instantly.

"_Respitere beatificus_," Pomfrey said, frowning. "That's a new one, Minerva."

"Actually, quite the opposite. I've been dusting off a number of ancient tomes," McGonagall said, "searching for spells that might help Severus to recover. The _respitere beatificus_ charm has roots in early Christianity. According to traditional wizardry, it was formulated by St. Mungo the Wonderworker."

"I've never seen Severus looking so peaceful," Dumbledore said.

"Do you think he'll sleep through the night?" Pomfrey said.

"I"m certain of it," McGonagall said. "It's an extremely powerful charm... reputed to heal wounds that are emotional as well as physical."

Dumbledore pulled the bedsheets up to Snape's chin. "Excellent work, my dear," he told McGonagall. "This is just what Severus needed."

[_]

Snape indeed only awoke the next morning, but a slight feeling of confusion accompanied his return to consciousness. And then, he realized why.

"No nightmares," he said in a whisper.

"Good morning, Severus," Pomfrey said. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," he replied after a moment of hesitation. "I..."

"Yes? Does anything hurt?"

"No... not right now." He paused, and said, "I need to thank Minerva."


	4. Magnanimous and grateful

"Of course. Of course, Severus," Pomfrey said. "She should be here any minute. I'll get you something to eat." 

He nodded.

"Well! Look who's turned into a lamb! I guess I'll have to thank Minerva too."

His mouth twisted into something that only approximated his trademark sneer. "I am feeling... _magnanimous_, Poppy. Enjoy it while it lasts."

She smiled at him and shook her head. "Porridge then, dear?"

"Yes."

"I'll add a little honey to it, shall I?"

"Thank you."

Pomfrey headed for the door just as McGonagall stepped in the room.

"How is he? Is he awake yet?" McGonagall said.

"As a matter of fact, he's waiting for you."

McGonagall eyed the mediwitch for a second. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I have to get his breakfast... I'll be right back." Pomfrey tittered and left.

McGonagall went to Snape's bedside and sat down. "Severus."

"Minerva."

"You seem better."

"I am," he said. "I have you to thank for that. I remember the spell you used... Very interesting. I never imagined such an... archaic incantation would actually work."

"Our illustrious predecessors viewed their magic as miraculous interventions. I think they were right. And if anyone had been in need of a miracle lately, it was you."

He smirked, and his expression grew somber. "I've never had reason to believe in such things." He looked away and said, "I know, Minerva. My hands."

"Severus, I'm sure that..."

"No. Don't try to comfort me, I assure you there's no point. I accept my fate. I earned it. They're not hurting me at present, but I know they're-" He swallowed. "Ruined. Beyond repair."

McGonagall sighed. "Severus, I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. You've already done more for me than I've ever done for you."

A smile wavered on McGonagall's lips. "It wasn't the first time I'd stayed up all night going through piles of books."

"That's not what I mean, although I am grateful for that as well. You saved my life. In Hogsmeade. I was dying."


	5. Defender of Slytherin

"You know as well as I that if our positions had been reversed-"

"How many people would have thought I was worth saving?"

"Severus."

"I don't know how to be anything other than an outcast."

"We've had this discussion before." She put a hand upon his arm and stared into his eyes. "The time has come to leave the past behind. You can do it, Severus."

"You sound so sure of yourself."

"We shall soon see which one of us is more bullheaded."

"I have a feeling I've lost already." His lips curved upwards slightly.

"That's the spirit," McGonagall said, smoothing his brow with tender fingers. "You can't have me scolding you in front of students, can you?"

"Evidently, you were sorted into the wrong House."

"While we're on that subject, your prefects are coming to see you this afternoon."

"Oh. Excellent. I had been concerned about my..." He faltered, and went on. "My Slytherins. About what has been going on in my House since this happened."

"Well, reactions have been mixed, as you can imagine. But the majority of them support you. I believe many Slytherins are relieved to have an ally, someone who will defend their decision not to join the Death Eaters. Someone who will understand their predicament."

Snape sat up straighter. "Yes. Yes. I can help them, now. Truly help them. No one knows better than I how difficult it is to resist the lure of Voldemort's-" He released a shaky breath. "I will not allow him to deceive those who are under my care. Everything that is in my power to do, I shall."

"You see, Severus -you can't give up. Too many depend upon you."

They were interrupted by the sound of Pomfrey clearing her throat. "Is our Potions Master hungry?"

"Indeed, Poppy," he said.

"Good. Porridge, and then a rest," Pomfrey said. "A few of your Slytherins are dropping by later on, you know. They're very anxious to see you."

He struggled not to smile.

[_]

Pomfrey carefully folded the bedsheets underneath Snape's arms. He was wearing a fresh nightgown and the bandages around his hands hid his injuries as much as possible.

"There," she said, patting the sheets. "How's that?"

"Fine," Snape said. "Show them in, please."

Pomfrey went to the door and said, "Come in, lads. Professor Snape will see you now," then busied herself at the potions cabinet.

Two talls boys approached Snape's bed, clutching dark packages tied with green ribbons.

"Professor," the older one said. "You... you look better, sir. We were worried."

Snape observed him for a moment. "Mr. Greenfield. It was you, in Hogsmeade, wasn't it? The one who came to my aid after I Apparated."

"Yes, sir."

Snape nodded once.

"We brought you gifts, professor," Moorland said.

"Thank you. You can put them over there, on the table."

Greenfield nudged his younger companion, who took both parcels and did as Snape had asked.

"You have been keeping a watchful eye on my House?" Snape asked the older Slytherin.

"Yes, sir. Everyone has been working twice as hard since-" He reddened, and lowered his eyes.

"Don't be afraid to say it. You know the truth now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."


	6. The Dark Mark burns

"Yes, sir. Everyone knows."

Snape closed his eyes. "Good." He paused and said, "Mr. Greenfield, I assume you are aware of the fact that a number of Slytherins are being courted by the Dark Lord. That many are tempted to receive the Dark Mark."

"Yes, sir."

"How many of them are now questioning the wisdom of such a choice?"

"A few. Especially those who... those who have always looked up to you, Professor."

Snape's brow knotted, and he hissed softly. "Which ones."

"Sir? Professor Snape, are you all right?"

"Names..."

Greenfield glanced over his shoulder at Pomfrey; she moved closer.

"Some Slytherins have overheard Draco Malfoy say he was prepared to defy his father," Greenfield told Snape. "He's trying to convince others to imitate him."

"I want Draco to... come and see me as... as soon as-"

"Lads, the professor needs to rest up a bit now," Pomfrey said, brandishing her wand.

"No, Draco m- must come to me, now." Snape paled even more and held his breath.

"Severus, what's wrong?" the mediwitch asked.

"The Mark... it's burning, Voldemort... trying to..."

Pomfrey muttered a spell and held her wand to her throat. "Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, emergency in the Hospital Wing!" She turned to the two Slytherin boys and said, "Go. Go."

The younger Slytherin nodded, but the other hesitated and lingered near the door.

"Mr. Greenfield, there's nothing you can do to help," Pomfrey said. "Go back to your common room at once."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," he said with a curt tilt of the head, and left.

The mediwitch ran her wand over the Potions Master. "Severus, how bad is it? _Dolorosa reducio_." _Hurry up, Albus_...

"You won't get them... torture me all you want, but I... I won't let you... touch them, you soulless- Ah!" A dark red stain appeared on the bandage wrapped around Snape's forearm, and kept growing larger by the second.

"_Dolorosa reducio_," Pomfrey said, knowing full well that the charm was next to useless. "_Accio_ bandages!"

Snape's tense features were bathed in sweat. "Bastard... damn you..." Again he cried out in pain. "You won't stop me! I swear it! I'll... I'll be in agony for the rest of my life if that's what it takes!"

"Severus, try to stay calm," Pomfrey said. She lifted his arm and wrapped more gauze around the blood-drenched limb. "Albus and Minerva are on their way."

The words had barely left her mouth than Dumbledore and McGonagall raced into the room.

"The Dark Mark," Pomfrey said. "It's-"

"Take those bandages off his arm," McGonagall said.

"What?" the mediwitch said.

"I believe I've found a spell that will work," McGonagall said, "but I'll have to touch the Mark with the tip of my wand."

"No, too... too dangerous..." Snape said between gasps.

"It's not permanent, but it will stop the pain completely, at least for a while," McGonagall said, pushing back her sleeves.

"No... no..."

"You have to trust her, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Or the spell won't work, and Minerva may be seriously hurt in the process."

"This is madness... won't allow it..."

"Severus?" McGonagall said, her wand at the ready.

"Minerva, don't..."

"_Maledictis_-"

A fresh wave of pain drowned his senses, and he capitulated. "I trust you."

"-_va de retro_."


	7. Minerva foils Voldemort

The instant McGonagall's wand grazed Snape's Dark Mark, a pale blue flash of light blinded everyone present; it then coalesced around the Potions Master's arm, quickly turned to silver, and enveloped his limb from hand to elbow like a knight's steel glove.

For a moment, no one spoke. There was only the sound of Snape's breath growing calmer. He gazed at the silver light clasping his arm, and whispered, "I can't believe it."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, "is the pain gone?"

"Yes." He shook his head. "It's as though... I can't even remember what it ever felt like."

"Minerva, you did it!" Pomfrey said. "You have got to teach me some of those spells. I've never seen anything like this."

"I knew it would work. It had to," McGonagall said. She stared at Snape's astounded features and blinked back tears. "It had to."

Dumbledore hugged her. "Apparently, you are quite the miracle worker."

"Indeed," Snape said quietly, "I don't know what to say." His voice became even fainter. "My dear Minerva, I... I don't know how to thank you." Snape's eyelids drifted shut, and to everyone's astonishment, a small laugh escaped him. "A most... wonderful feeling. Almost like the past is over."

Then he was asleep.

"How long will it last, Minerva?" Dumbledore said.

"According to the spell book, seven hours."

"So he'll rest until at least ten," Pomfrey said. "Hopefully... Do you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will try again right away?"

McGonagall smirked. "I should think not. The Dark Lord will be nursing a rather excruciating headache for a while. I suspect he'll be more hesitant about summoning our Severus from now on."

"Very, very well done, Minerva," Dumbledore said, and hugged her again. "I do believe we shall have to upgrade our curriculum to include a course on the forgotten teachings of St. Mungo."

"One for the students... and one for the staff," Pomfrey said. "In the meantime, we all need a bite to eat, and a little rest too."

"Splendid idea," Dumbledore said. "Especially you, Minerva. Are you all right?"

"Yes, just tired. Nothing a cup of tea and a short nap won't cure."

"A cup of tea, and a large piece of cake, my dear," Dumbledore said. "And then, a long nap."

She shook her head. "I want to be here when Severus awakes."

"Plenty of time for a few hours' rest," Dumbledore said, grasping her elbow and guiding her out of the room. "You wouldn't want Severus to see you with dark circles under your eyes, would you?"

"Albus! Honestly."

[_]

"I should be angry at you right now," Snape said softly. "Taking such a reckless gamble on my miserable behalf."

"I am simply beside myself with fear," McGonagall said, and put another pillow behind his head. "How's that?"

"Very comfortable." He sank deeper into the mound of pillows and exhaled.

"Is your arm bothering you at all?"

"No." He looked at her and cocked his dark eyebrow. "I will never say the words 'foolish wand-waving' again."

"Speaking of reckless gambles," she said with a smile.

"All I seem to be doing lately is thanking you. It doesn't seem adequate in comparison with what you've done for me."

"Trust me, Severus, your increasing levels of geniality are more than enough."

"I don't have much else to give, and that may be why I've been making an... effort. I assure you that beneath this innocuous facade, I am as unpleasant as ever."

"Dear me. And to think that the entire student body of Hogwarts is clamoring to visit you."

"Really." He sighed. "I suppose there's no avoiding it."

"Oh, come now, Severus. It won't be so terrible. You're just going to have to get used to being seen as a hero, which at any rate you are."

Eventually he shrugged and met her amused gaze. "Well... Perhaps."

"I'm positive you'll get used to it sooner or later."

"They really... _want_ to see me? I find that most hard to belie-"

"That does it, Professor Snape. Let me convince you, once and for all, that you are not the evil Potions Master you made yourself out to be. Everyone knows it, except you, obviously." She rose and made her way towards the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Where-"

"I won't be long."

"That woman'll be the death of me," he said, mumbling the words, and hovered between sleep and wakefulness as he waited for McGonagall to return.

Then he felt someone sitting down on the edge of the bed and opened his eyes. "Minerva. You startled me."

"I'm sorry, Severus. But look at what I've brought you." She was holding a stone bowl filled with a substance like liquid silver.

"Albus's pensieve? What on earth for?"

"Just look."


	8. A mountain of gifts

He peered at the bowl's swirling contents, and a succession of images began to materialize and collapse upon themselves. Students, in his class, Slytherins and Gryffindors, arguing about who would get to see him first. Potter, weeping in Albus's office, begging him to help the Potions Master. The Great Hall filled with young witches and wizards hanging their heads in shame when informed that their most hated teacher was really a spy for the forces of good, who'd had their best interest at heart all these years.

"That's enough," Snape said. "Minerva, enough..."

McGonagall set the pensieve on the bedside table and gazed at Snape. "Well?"

"What do you want from me?" He sighed. "I don't even know who I am anymore. And I'm too tired to think about all this."

"Of course. It's getting late, time to sleep," McGonagall said, and straightened his blankets.

"You'll be there... when those blasted visits begin?"

"Would you like me to be?"

"Minerva... Come on, dammit..."

"I'm just teasing you, you know very well that I'll be there. Now get some sleep. Does anything hurt?"

"My hands are sore," Snape said softly. "My back, my knees... ankles..."

McGonagall took out her wand, but then Snape said, "No... I think all this... wand magic... is starting to give me headaches..."

She frowned. "I was afraid that would happen. Perhaps we'll try not to use charms as often, wait until night comes and make sure you can at least sleep quietly."

"All right..."

McGonagall whispered a spell, put a cold compress on his forehead, and dabbed a little peppermint oil under his nose. "There. How do you feel?"

Snape took a deep breath and said, "Oh, that's nice. Good idea... the peppermint. Head doesn't feel so tight."

"Thank you, Severus. You just lie still."

He nodded once, and murmured, "Draco... Send him to me first."

[_]

The next morning, Pomfrey was patting the sheen of sweat on Snape's face with a cool cloth, and tut-tutting. "I should cancel those visits. He's not well enough-"

"It's not that bad," Snape said. "Let them come. It'll keep my mind off it."

"Minerva, I can't imagine you agree with this," Pomfrey said.

"I think he may be right."

The mediwitch rolled her eyes. "I've heard everything now."

"Don't worry. I'll make certain he doesn't overextend himself," McGonagall.

It was Snape's turn to roll his eyes. "I'd like to remind you both that I'm still in the room."

"Are you sure you're up to it?" McGonagall said.

"Yes, yes. I've been tortured by Voldemort on a regular basis for the past twenty years, I think I can handle visits from a few students, not to mention students from my own house."

"If you say so, professor," Pomfrey said. She went to the door and said, "All right, children, Professor Snape will see you now-"

A resounding cheer echoed from the hallway.

"Quiet! May I remind you that the professor is still not fully recovered!" Pomfrey said, shouting them down. "Now. You will be allowed to come in two at a time, and I want to hear the sound of silence from the rest of you while you're waiting your turn, is that clear?"

The Slytherins grumbled.

"Draco first," Snape told McGonagall. "Get Draco. I must speak with him."

The Transfiguration Professor walked to the door, whispered in Pomfrey's ear, then went to fetch the boy from the seemingly endless queue of Slytherins.

"Professor Snape has requested to see you first," McGonagall told Draco.

Draco nodded and followed her into the Hospital Ward.

"Go ahead, Draco," McGonagall said, gesturing towards Snape's bed.

The blond Slytherin approached and paled slightly when he saw his Head of House, who was in obvious pain.

"Professor, I... you said you wanted to see me."

"Draco, is it true, what I've been told -that you won't take the Mark?"

"Yes, sir."

"You cannot go home. You must remain at Hogwarts until the Headmaster makes the appropriate arrangements. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'm very proud of you, and I want to encourage you to continue what you've been doing. Try to convince as many of your peers as you can to turn their backs on the Dark Lord."

"Thank you, professor. I will do my best."

"Remember, I will always be there to help you. I know that it's not an easy thing, to change one's ways, but you must never give up."

"Yes, Professor Snape."

Snape looked at the silver package in Draco's hands. "What have you brought me then?"

Draco smiled. "It's... shall I unwrap it for you now, sir?"

"I would like that."

Draco tore the wrapping from the present and held out a black velvet robe embroidered with emerald serpents. "What do you think, professor?"

"As usual, Mr. Malfoy, your taste is the essence of Slytherin refinement."

"Thank you, professor," Draco said. "I knew you'd like it." He lay the robe at the foot of the bed and said, "We miss you. Please, get well soon, professor."

"I will also do my best, Draco."

"Well, goodbye, sir. I hope we'll be able to see you at the End of Year Ball."

Snape's lips twitched.

[_]

Two hours later, Snape's eyelids started drifting shut, and his hair was moist with sweat.

"He's exhausted," Pomfrey told McGonagall. "That's enough for today."

"No, it doesn't matter," Snape said. "If the whole of Hogwarts wants to see me... as you purport... there won't be enough time... at this rate..."

"Be reasonable," McGonagall said. "Do you want to have a relapse?"

"Don't turn them away," Snape said. "So what if I'm not awake... The first years'll be... less unnerved..."

Pomfrey snorted and jerked her head towards the mountain of packages in front of the bed. "I think this gift procession is starting to grow on him, if you want my opinion."

Snape looked at McGonagall. "My joints are killing me. Just... let them come, let them... talk to me... maybe I'll fall asleep if... if they keep distracting me... They won't mind... will they?"

"Of course not, Severus. I'm sure they'll be glad to know they've helped somehow," McGonagall said.

"Maybe a spell," Pomfrey said.

Snape blanched. "Not yet... Later..."

"Let's do what he asks," McGonagall said. "I think it'd be the best solution."

Pomfrey huffed, but then she relented. "I suppose you're right. Just tell the children to be extra quiet when the stubborn man does fall asleep."

McGonagall went to the hallway where the students were anxiously waiting to see their Potions Master.

"Professor McGonagall, is it going to be much longer til we can see him?" some of the Slytherins at the back of the row called out.

McGonagall put her finger in front of her lips. "Children, Professor Snape is not feeling very well-"

A hushed sound of disappointment travelled along the row.

"But," McGonagall said, "he still wants you to come and visit him. Now, I want each of you to speak quietly to the professor, and help him to go to sleep. Do I have your word of honor?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," they whispered.

"Very good. Go on," she told the two Slytherins who were standing next to the doorway, "it's your turn."

The children entered the room and Pomfrey gave them a warning look. They nodded and carefully neared Snape's bedside.

Snape opened his eyes and said, "Miss Wormwood... Miss Nightshade..."

"We... we brought you something, professor," they said, their voices warbling.

"Most kind," Snape said. "Just put it... over there." Then he gasped softly and the girls lowered their gaze, lips trembling.

"It's all right... it's all right," Snape said. "I'll be... I'll be fine in a moment. So tell me... how is the Headmaster... at potions then?"


	9. Bad dreams revisited

[_]

Later that afternoon, the Slytherin table was surrounded on all sides by Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who were listening with rapt attention to the latest news about their Potions Master.

"He's still... He's not well yet," Draco said. "But he's Professor Snape. He'll be better soon."

"Was he happy to see you?" a Hufflepuff asked.

"Of course he was," Draco said. "He's our Head of House, you idiot."

"We heard that he was in too much pain to sleep," Hermione said. "How can that be? Isn't he being given potions?"

"Remember, when we went to the Hospital Wing to give him your get-well card," Harry said. "The potions weren't working."

"That had to be temporary," Hermione said. "Whoever heard of potions not working?"

"The Dreamless Sleep potion didn't work on me that one time, when You-Know-Who was making me dream of Professor Snape," Harry said, and repressed a shudder.

"Hey, Ferret Face! Did you see Madam Pomfrey giving the professor any potions while you were there?" Ron asked Draco.

"Bugger off, Slug Breath. Why should I tell you anything about Professor Snape? You're the one who goes around calling him a greasy git all the time."

"I said I was sorry about that-" Ron said, even though he was still nervous at the thought of facing a conscious Potions Master.

"Draco, did Madam Pomfrey give the professor any potions at all?" Hermione said.

Draco looked at her through narrowed eyes, then he frowned. "I don't think so."

"When we saw him, he looked like he was hurting a lot," a Slytherin girl said.

"I don't understand why he's not being given potions to numb the pain," Hermione said.

From the expression on her face, Harry and Ron could tell that she was already going through piles of books in the library.

"Was he... was he in a bad mood?" Nevilled said with a hesitant voice.

"Was he... was he in a bad mood?" Draco said, imitating the cowering Gryffindor. "I'm sure the moment he sees you, he will be, Longbottom."

There was a cough from the Head Table.

"Children, dinner is about to start," Dumbledore said. "Why don't you all return to your respective tables, and after dessert I'll tell you about Professor Snape and how much he's looking forward to your visits."

The students promptly obeyed and ate as fast as they could without choking. They then waited in anxious silence for the teachers to finish their own meals; finally the Headmaster rose and cleared his throat.

"I'm pleased to tell you that Professor Snape was most cheered by the sight of his beloved Slytherins today. He also wished to let them know how touched he was by all the gifts he received."

The Slytherins fairly glowed.

"Also... Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione lowered her hand and said, "Headmaster, we were wondering why it is that Professor Snape hasn't been given any potions for his pain."

"Ah. Yes. Well, Miss Granger, I'm afraid that as a result of the Dark Lord's curses, Professor Snape is no longer responsive to potions."

The students gasped.

"We have had recourse to wand magic, but its repeated use is beginning to have adverse effects on your Potions Master. As the Slytherins know, he requested that visitations should not be interrupted because your presence was calming him. I should therefore like to impress upon the rest of you how much your visits mean to Professor Snape."

As Ron, Harry and Hermione were making their way back to their common room, Ron said, "Did -did Dumbledore actually say that Snape finds us... _relaxing_?"

"I can't believe Professor Snape isn't able to take potions anymore," Hermione said. "Something unspeakable must have caused it. Some sort of dark magic no one's heard of until now."

"Except for Voldemort," Harry said.

"Snape... _wants_ to see us," Ron said, paying no heed to Harry's use of the dreaded name. "Either the wizarding world's gone mad, or I have."

They reached the Gryffindor common room and settled in their favorite corner.

"But it's not like Professor Snape hasn't been tortured before," Hermione said after they'd sat in silence for a while. "He couldn't move his hands either, remember? He probably still can't. It's like Voldemort had the power to take away what Professor Snape loved most."

Harry's throat clenched. "It has something to do with me. I know it."

"Harry, you're not being rational," Hermione said. "The only place we'll get any answers is the Restricted Section of the library."

"Invisibility Cloak," Harry said.

"Right, let's get into trouble or something. I can handle that," Ron said.

[_]

The Gryffindor trio, huddled together between two tall bookcases, had been going through one thick grimoire after another, stopping only to yawn or jump at strange noises, when a small sound of victory escaped Hermione's lips.

"Here, that's it! I think I've found what we're looking for!" She pointed at a water stained page in the book on her lap.

"What is it? Where?" Harry said, his eyes darting from one side of the page to the other.

"Here, the part about the rebirth of a dark wizard. 'The power of the enemy's hatred will rekindle hatred's power.'"

"Huh?" Ron said.

"Look. Here is the ritual that Pettigrew performed to bring You Know Who back to life. What it says, basically, is that Harry's hatred for Voldemort was the most important aspect of it," Hermione said.

"And this means..." Harry said.

"That your hatred is the source of Voldemort's strength, because he is hatred incarnate. He feeds on it," Hermione said.

"Would you guys quit saying that name?" Ron said.

"The power of the enemy's hatred. You don't think..." Harry grew pale. "During those times Voldemort forced me to dream about what he was doing to the professor, he said... He told me that I hated Professor Snape. He... he said I'd dreamed of crushing him. And then he broke the professor's hands."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said.

"That was just You Know Who playing his sick games," Ron said. "He was the one hurting Professor Snape, not you."

"No. It all makes sense now," Harry said. He buried his face in his hands. "Voldemort coming back, what he did to Professor Snape... It's just like when Cedric died, or when mum died. It's my fault, all of it."

"Harry, listen to me. You didn't kill Cedric. You didn't kill your mum. And you will undo what Voldemort did to Professor Snape," Hermione said.

"How?"

She indicated a list further down the page. "You will brew this potion. No one else but you can do it, and no one else but you can administer it to Professor Snape."

[_]

The cat that lay asleep next to the Potions Master suddenly opened its eyes. It turned its head and stared at the slumbering man's face, its ears pricked up.

He moaned.

It jumped off the bed and was instantly replaced by Professor Minerva McGonagall, who bent over Snape and said, "Severus?"

"No... no..."

"Shhh," she said, stroking his hair.

"Albus... help me... please..."

"It's all right, Severus. Just a bad dream."

He cried out softly.

"Wake up, dear. You're safe. No one can hurt you."

"M- make it stop..." His voice grew louder and more desperate. "Stop, stop!"

"Severus-"

The Potions Master screamed.

McGonagall shook him by the shoulders. "Severus, wake up!"

The scream died in his throat as abruptly as it had begun and his eyelids fluttered. He drew in a shaky breath and tried to reach for McGonagall with his twisted hand, but he could barely lift it off the mattress. "Minerva?"

She took his hand in hers and held it against the base of her throat. "Oh, dear. You were dreaming again."

"I... I was back there. In the dark, in chains, waiting... Minerva, I thought I was going mad."

She sat on the bed and gathered his trembling form in her arms. "It's all over now."

He wept against her shoulder.

"I know, I know," she said, rocking him slightly.


	10. Severus is cured

Then she frowned. Had that been a knock on the door? It was well past midnight.

Another barely audible knock and Pomfrey came into view, night cap askew. She saw McGonagall holding Snape and raised her eyebrows as if to say, _is everything all right?_

McGonagall jerked her head towards the door.

Pomfrey opened it and beheld Harry, Ron and Hermione who were standing there with Dumbledore; the Headmaster looked like he'd quickly thrown an emerald green bathrobe over his star-strewn nightgown.

"Albus! What on earth is going on?" Pomfrey whispered.

"Harry has something very important for Professor Snape," Dumbledore said, indicating the small cauldron Harry was holding. Golden fumes were emanating from the sparkling potion it contained.

"It's a cure," Hermione said. She glanced at McGonagall who was staring at them and looking not at all pleased. "For the professor's injuries."

Pomfrey's eyes met Dumbledore's. He nodded.

"Come in, then," she said.

McGonagall still had her arms protectively wrapped around Snape. He seemed to have gone back to sleep. "Albus, what is going on?" she murmured.

"Harry, Ron and Hermione have been working all night to solve the mystery of Severus's illness. I have no doubts that the potion they've brewed will counteract Voldemort's curse permanently."

"Actually, Harry's brewed the potion," Ron said.

"And he has to give it to Professor Snape for it to work," Hermione said.

"But Hermione's the one who found the recipe," Harry said.

McGonagall studied them carefully. "I am afraid to ask if you three have ventured in the Forbidden Section of the library again."

The Gryffindors swallowed in unison.

"It was for a good cause," Dumbledore said. "I am sure it won't be necessary to deduct any house points, Minerva."

"Albus, are you sure about this?" McGonagall said.

"It couldn't possibly hurt to try."

She sniffed. "I suppose we're running out of options."

She very gently lowered Snape upon the bed and supported his neck and shoulders so he would be able to drink the potion. "Well, go on, Mister Potter. Let's see if this will work," she said, her voice stiff.

They poured the potion in a glass and Harry brought it to Snape's lips.

"Professor... Please drink this," he said, but the Potions Master didn't open his eyes.

"Severus," McGonagall said, "wake up, dear. We have some medicine for you and you need to drink it."

Snape mumbled and his eyelids fluttered, but he didn't seem quite awake.

"Please, drink this," Harry said, tipping the glass. "You have to drink it all, sir..."

A few gulps, and the glass was empty.

"There," McGonagall said, wiping the corner of Snape's mouth. "I hope that-"

Snape's eyes suddenly flew open, he took a deep breath and screamed.

Harry dropped the glass and it smashed against the floor; the color drained from Hermione's face.

"Severus!" McGonagall said.

Dumbledore had whiped out his wand but Snape blacked out and they heard a series of sharp snaps and pops.

"Look!" Pomfrey said.

His hands were twitching violently, and then his entire body, as bones and joints repaired themselves and became straight again.

"I think it... it's working," Hermione said, unable to stop herself from crying.

A moment later, and Snape was still. Another few seconds and everyone present started breathing again.

"Let me check if he's all right," Pomfrey said.

She took one of his hands and slowly undid the bandages, her own hands shaking.

"Careful-" McGonagall said, feeling as though her insides had liquefied.

Then they saw that his long fingers were as graceful as before, though his skin was reddened. His hands were completely restored, his wrists as slender as they remembered.

"It worked," Harry said.

McGonagall rose and hid her face against Dumbledore's chest.

Pomfrey lifted the blanket off his legs."Let me see if-"

His knees and ankles were back to their normal size as well, just a bit red and bruised.

"It appears you were right as usual, Hermione," Dumbledore said.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It was Harry who -who cured him, s- sir."

Harry hugged her, joined by Ron.

"Well, children, you'd best go to bed now," Dumbledore said. "Tomorrow will be a holiday for everyone. And no studying for exams."

"Yes, sir!" Ron said.

"Sir, do you think Professor Snape will remember what happened just now?" Harry said.

"I don't think so, Mister Potter," McGonagall answered, getting herself back under control. "He was hardly awake. But of course we'll tell-"

"I'd rather he not know I had to give him the potion," Harry said. "Tell him that it was you, Professor McGonagall. I think it'd be better that way. For Professor Snape, I mean."

She thought about it for a moment. "You realize that there's a possibility he'll remember something, Mister Potter."

"But if you say it was you, then he'll think it was a dream or something," Harry said.

"Very well. I'll see what I can do," McGonagall said.

"What he needs most of all now is rest," Pomfrey said. "So do we, I daresay."

"He's... He'll be all right?" Hermione said.

Pomfrey felt his pulse and touched his face. "Good, good..." She ran her wand over him to make sure everything was in order. "Apart from a shock to the system, he's as good as new. He'll probably be sore when he wakes up, but since your potion worked, I'm positive I'll be able to give him something now."

"I'll stay with him," McGonagall said.

"And I'll be back first thing in the morning," Dumbledore said.

[_]

At around eight o'clock, McGonagall jumped off the bed and transfigured back to her normal state again. Snape was showing signs of waking up and she sat by his side, scrutinizing his pale face for any hint of pain.

Pomfrey entered the room; it had been a while since she'd looked so rested. "Did he wake at all during the night?" she asked McGonagall.

"No, but I think he's about to."

No sooner had she said so than he grunted and stirred. "Ugh..."

"Severus," McGonagall said. "Are you hurting?"

"I'm... I'm sore as hell," he said thickly. He winced. "Ow!"

Pomfrey uncorked a vial. "Take this, professor."

"But... potions don't work anymore," he said.

"We got that problem fixed last night. Don't you remember? Here, open up, Severus," Pomfrey said.

He gazed at the purple liquid with nostalgic longing and did not question her. To his surprise, he was almost immediately filled with an intoxicating sense of well-being. Relief flowed through his body and the pain vanished.

"Oh. Oooh..."

McGonagall smiled as she watched the tension melt off his features. "Better, dear?"

"I haven't felt this wonderful since the_ Respitere Beatificus_," he said, basking in the wave of comfort that had washed over him. "But why-" Then he tried moving his fingers and flinched a little.

"I wouldn't do that. Not just yet, they're bound to be sensitive for a couple of days," Pomfrey said.

He looked at her. "You say that like I'll be able to use them again soon." His gaze fell on McGonagall. "What's going on?"

Very gently, she took one of his hands from underneath the folded sheet. "We found the cure for the curses that ailed you."

She lifted his hand from his chest, and he hissed softly.

"I'm sorry, Severus," McGonagall said. "As Poppy said, they're going to be tender, but not for long. Look."

He stared down at it.

The memory of how his hands had been broken by the Dark Lord would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. Until yesterday, although concealed by bandages, they'd lain like gauze covered hooks upon his breast, and the thought of seeing them exposed had made him tremble.

Yet, looking at them now, the idea of preparing potions again no longer seemed impossible.

"How..."

An image flashed across his mind, hazy and confused: a golden potion that had tasted like honey and marigolds, then pain almost like that he'd felt when Voldemort had cursed him over and over.

"We found the cure," Dumbledore said, entering the room and approaching the bed. "It reversed all of the effects of the Dark Lord's curses."

The Potions Master was dumbstruck. Then he said, in a slightly quavering voice, "I'm... I'm going to be... all right?"


	11. Dress robes and glass slippers

"Yes, Severus. You'll be back in your potions lab before you know it," Dumbledore said.

"Well, I think a long rest over the summer would be a good idea," McGonagall said. "He deserves it, Albus."

"I agree completely, but perhaps Severus will be too impatient to wait much longer-"

"You're the Headmaster, put your foot down for once!"

Snape was unable to pay attention to McGonagall and Dumbledore's exchange; he was trying to convince himself that what the Headmaster had told him was true.

_Cured._

Those terrible curses, erased.

He tried flexing his fingers again, and cried out.

"Severus?" McGonagall said, forgetting about her argument with Dumbledore. "You shouldn't move them, dear. Just a little more time, and you'll be as good as new."

"I'm afraid to believe you," Snape said. But he smiled.

She smiled back, then looked up at Pomfrey. "Poppy, perhaps his hands should be immobilized until they're entirely healed."

The mediwitch nodded.

"I never suspected you were so fond of mollycoddling people," Snape told McGonagall.

"You're not the only one who's full of surprises, Professor Snape," she said.

"Don't flatter yourself, Minerva."

Pomfrey looked at Dumbledore and rolled her eyes.

"I'm looking forward to telling the students their Potions Master is well again," Dumbledore said.

"Albus, I'd really prefer you didn't make a big -fuss," Snape said.

"I'm afraid the Slytherins have already caught wind of this and are planning... How did they put it? 'The Bash of the Century,' if I understood correctly."

Snape groaned, but he was clearly torn between pleasure, dismay, and anxiety.

"Hold still, professor," Pomfrey said. She began tightly wrapping bandages around his wrists and hands.

Every other second, he flinched, but she worked quickly and soon his wrists were secured with braces.

"There," the mediwitch said. "How's that?"

"Better," Snape said, and exhaled. "Thank you."

Dumbledore neared the bed and patted Snape on the cheek. "It's so good to have you back, lad."

"I don't know how many more maudlin moments I can bear," Snape said lightly, even though his face went sour.

"Oh, you'll live, I'm sure," McGonagall said.

"You all just wait til I'm on my feet again."

Pomfrey crossed her arms and said, "You will not get out of that bed without my approval, Severus."

"As if I've ever attempted such a daring exploit."

"At any rate, I'd like to see you try. You've been in bed for over a month."

"Poppy, I assure you that I have no intention of disregarding your advice. I am sincerely grateful for all you've done for me."

"Well, I- of course, we've all been worried sick about you," the mediwitch said, placated by his uncharacteristic docility.

"A little more rest and we'll see about you getting some exercise," McGonagall said.

"I've been meaning to ask... Where did you find this cure? Was it you who found it, Minerva? Or was it you, Albus? I am most curious."

McGonagall hesitated, and cleared her throat. "It was in the Forbidden section of the library."

"Ah, yes. My favorite section... Naturally. But you haven't answered my second question."

"It was..." She glanced at Dumbledore.

"Perhaps we should tell him," he said.

"I have a sinking feeling I won't like this," Snape said. "It can therefore only mean one thing."

"Two words: Invisibility Cloak," Dumbledore said.

"I knew it. Those three. The Forbidden section attracts them like moths to a flame."

"Miss Granger is the one who found the right potion, and Mister Potter is the one who administered it," McGonagall said.

"Miss Granger. There's a shock," Snape said. He frowned. "But... why did Potter wish to... Acknowledged all the times I saved his life, then, did he?"

"Severus," McGonagall said. "He was... What happened to you affected him deeply."

"Is that so-" Snape's mind was jolted by an image he'd seen in Dumbledore's pensieve, and he suddenly went pale.

Potter, weeping in the Headmaster's office.

_I could see him._

"The Dark Lord established a connection with the boy again," Snape said.

After a moment, Dumbledore nodded.

"How much did Potter... did Harry see?"

"Voldemort did not spare him anything," Dumbledore said.

"I remember little," Snape whispered. "After a while, it was just pain, and nothingness."

"Harry was in shock for some time. Voldemort's tactic was particularly insidious. He hinted that Harry was enjoying what he was being shown," Dumbledore said.

"Voldemort has no regard for his victims, no matter how young or old they may be." Snape shook his head. "I regret the boy was exposed to yet another of Voldemort's... atrocities."

"When he told me what had happened, I feared I would never see you again, Severus," Dumbledore said, and his eyes watered.

"Enough tears have been shed because of this," Snape said. "The Dark Lord did not succeed, and I intend to spend a leisurely summer here at Hogwarts, recuperating."

"Well, excuse me while I check if my ears heard correctly," Pomfrey said.

"My goodness. Don't tell me you're going to be sensible from now on," McGonagall said.

"Let's not get carried away," Snape said.

[_]

Over the next few days, the Potions Master demonstrated just how amenable he could be when he wished. Once the wrist braces were off, Pomfrey and Dumbledore helped him take his first steps since he'd been captured by Voldemort. Soon he was walking on his own, albeit with a cane, which had been a present from Hagrid. Every morning, his hospital room was crowded with students bringing gifts and gawking at their relatively good-humored professor. In the afternoon, he wandered in the gardens with McGonagall and rested. He was eating more and looking better than anyone could recall.

At last he was well enough to attend the party his Slytherins had been feverishly planning for almost a week. The End of Year ball would focus on celebrating the Potions Master's return to health, and all of Hogwarts anticipated the event with a great deal of excitement.

Snape, however, was more than slightly apprehensive. He was still adjusting to his new-found status as a heroic figure and often seemed unsure of how to react in any given situation... Especially one where the entire school would be extolling his accomplishments.

He studied his reflection and sighed.

Apart from strands of silver hair, few traces of what he'd endured remained. On the contrary, his features had softened. There was a warmth in his dark eyes that hadn't been there before, and his lips were now capable of smiling.

_Nose is still the same size, though. Oh, well. It's not as if I ever was Prince Charming._

He made a face at the thought.

"Severus? Everyone is waiting," came McGonagall's voice in the room next to his bedchamber.

"Coming," he said, glancing at his new set of dress robes one last time.

"Finally," McGonagall said when he joined her. "My stars. Aren't you dashing."

"And you look lovely as always."

She snorted. "Remind me not to leave my glass slipper behind."

"What?"

"Never mind. Let's just say Miss Granger loves to share her Muggle literature with me."

"God preserve me."

"Well, we'd better get going, or we're really going to be late. I expect a riot would break out if you failed to show."

He grabbed his cane and proffered his arm. "Professor."

"Nervous?"

"Rubbish. It's just a party."

But as they neared the Great Hall, she saw his Adam's apple bob more than once.


	12. The Bet or Severus, the King of Swing

"Don't worry. All of this will die down after the summer holidays, and you can get back to normal," McGonagall said.

"As if my life has ever resembled anything remotely similar to normalcy." He frowned, suddenly aware of a disquieting fact: although he and Minerva were now only a few feet away from their destination, an eerie silence reigned in the hallway. "I thought you said all four Houses would be in attendance. Shouldn't there be... some sort of racket at the moment?"

"My. Perhaps the event was canceled. What a relief for you."

His lips thinned in a manner worthy of the Transfiguration Professor herself. "How well you know me." What were those children up to? Surely Minerva wouldn't have brought him here if no one... Not that he cared. Still, he'd really believed the students had, well, grown fond of him.

_I did NOT just think that._

"Stop brooding, Severus," McGonagall said, steering him toward the entrance. "Look."

All the children were standing at their respective tables, along with the entire Hogwarts teaching staff. Dumbledore said, "Everyone, greet our guest of honor. I give you, Professor Snape."

The moment the students began to clap, Slytherin banners unfurled along the walls, and sparkling green and silver confetti showered the entire assembly. McGonagall gently nudged the Potions Master forward. He held on tightly to her arm and they slowly walked towards the Head Table, the clapping hands now accompanied by cheers and hollers. It seemed his heart had risen somewhere near the base of his throat.

Snape reached his seat in the nick of time. His legs buckled and he was immediatly assisted by McGonagall and Lupin, who helped the overwhelmed professor sit down.

"Children, if you'll allow me to speak, children..." After Dumbledore's fifth attempt, the applause at last subsided. "Before we commence the night's festivities, I would like to say a few words on your Potions Master's behalf and to present him with a special, long-overdue gift, courtesy of the Ministry of Magic, in recognition of his many years of loyal service to the cause."

Had Snape not already been sitting, he would have collapsed.

"I'm quite sure, my dear Severus, that you would prefer I keep this speech as short as possible. Therefore, I will limit myself to these words. The wizarding community will never be able to repay you entirely for your countless sacrifices. While many were recognized for their efforts, you had to work in secrecy, suffering not only at the hands of the Dark Lord, but at the unwitting hands of allies, many of whom in fact owed you their lives. My sincerest wish is for all to acknowledge your courage, strength, and humanity, and for you to experience the happiness you were denied while you were fighting to secure it for everyone else."

"Headmaster, that's enough," Snape said, unable to keep his voice from shaking.

"Sadly, Minister Fudge couldn't be with us today-"

Almost everyone in the Great Hall sneered _à la_ Snape.

"-official duty, as I understand. Which leaves me with the privilege of bestowing upon you, Severus..."

Dumbledore opened a silver box lined with red velvet and approached the Potions Master, whose features had turned ashen.

"The Order of Merlin, First Class," the Headmaster said, and pinned it to Snape's jacket. "Congratulations, my boy. No one deserves this more than you."

The Potions Master's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. He gripped his cane, pushed himself to his feet, and clutched Dumbledore's shoulder.

"This is your day, Severus. This is at last your day," the old wizard said, and embraced Snape. Moments later, the Potions Master was surrounded by the rest of his colleagues, each hugging him in turn.

The Great Hall echoed with thunderous applause. Once McGonagall had held him in her arms and kissed him on the cheek, he slumped back in his seat. He stared, dumbfounded, at the students' standing ovation and fingered his medal, as if to convince himself it was truly there.

When the noise finally died down again, Dumbledore said, "Now, Severus, would you like to say something? No, no, I insist you remain seated, lad."

Snape abandoned his useless attempt to get to his feet one more time, and softly said, "Thank you. I... I need a drink, actually."

Laughter rang across the room.

"Well then, let the feast begin!" Dumbledore said.

[_]

_All our friends keep knocking at the door  
they've asked me out a hundred times or more  
but all I say is leave me in the gloom  
and here I stay within my lonely room  
'cause I don't want to walk without you, baby_

Harry James and His Orchestra

[_]

A couple of hours later, and about five glasses of wine later, the Potions Master was looking much more relaxed.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, Severus?" McGonagall said. She couldn't quite remember how many toasts they'd shared so far, and her eyes were a lot brighter than usual.

"I'm still going to kill Albus. Springing the Order of Merlin on me like that. Thank God I don't have a weak heart on top of everything else."

"I'd say you're coping with the shock rather well."

He smirked. "Coping has often made the difference between life and death in my case."

"Oh, Severus. I'm sorry if-"

"Minerva, I spoke in jest," he said, chagrined by her crestfallen expression. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's been a while since I've had this much alcohol, I'm afraid."

"We're not drunk yet, I don't think," she said, smiling now. "Besides, the evening is young, and Albus made sure there would be a plentiful supply of brandy."

The tables were cleared from the floor, the lights grew dim, and music began to play.

"Since I'm evidently doomed to pass out by nightfall, would like to have this dance?" Snape said.

Her eyebrows shot up.

"I may be a bit rusty, but I was a most sought after partner during my -well..." It was his turn to look downcast. "Dark revels weren't all blood and agony, you know."

"I would love to dance with you." Then she glanced at his silver tipped cane and said, "Will you be-"

"For one dance, I don't see why not. As long as you don't step on my feet."

"We'll see who steps on whose feet, Professor Snape."

A number of couples were already swaying to music, but they all retreated into the shadows when they saw Snape and McGonagall heading towards the dance floor.

"Oh, dear," she said. "I hope you don't mind being the center of attention again."

The upbeat music faded, replaced by an old Muggle war song, _I don't want to walk without you_.

He clasped her hand and pulled her slightly closer. "Let's really give them something to talk about, then."

"What?"

He swung her into motion and they began to dance.

"Severus Snape, I think I should have believed you when you said you'd had one too many."

He lowered his head and whispered to her ear, "Haven't you noticed, Minerva? Galleons have been circulating round the Great Hall all evening."

"I'm not sure I follow you," she said, frowning.

"Also, I overheard Lupin, who apparently drinks even less often than I do, brag about his odds of winning 'the bet.' If his less than discrete exchange with Dumbledore is not a figment of my imagination, Harry Potter will owe him a tidy sum before the clock strikes twelve."

"Bet? Clock? What on earth are you going on about?"

"It appears the majority of those present expect me to kiss you at some point. Potter and a minority believe otherwise."

McGonagall's jaw dropped. "I never! Of all the foolish..."

"Would it bother you so much if I did?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I wouldn't, I mean- Severus, it's not that I don't want you to, but, well... Honestly! It's totally inappropriate. Wagering on whether or not we'll kiss. This whole evening is supposed to be in homage to your valiant-"

"I am wearing a medal, aren't I? Isn't the hero entitled to a kiss?"

"You can't be serious. Why would you-"

"Keep it up, Minerva, everyone thinks we're arguing. The students whose gamble rests on a snog look like they're about to walk in a potions class," he said, chuckling.

"Severus, this isn't funny at all."

His eyes locked with hers. "You're right. I apologize. Maybe it's just that..."

"Yes?"

"You know, I might have made this entire thing up just to have an excuse to kiss you."

A blush suddenly tinged McGonagall's cheekbones. "Severus. You're worse than, than..."

"You shouldn't have spent so much time by my bedside while I was ill. Call me crazy, but I've become rather used to having you around."

The song was coming to an end, but Snape and McGonagall were too engrossed in their conversation to notice; the Slytherins who were in charge of the music quickly put on _That old black magic_, and all continued to watch the couple with baited breath. Would the solemn Potions Master throw decorum out the window and kiss his former teacher?

"Severus, we should come to our senses before we do something we'll both regret."

"I'm no longer in the mood to be sensible."

"We should sit down. Your leg-"

"Is fine." A slow smile curved his lips. "I'm making you nervous. How very interesting."

"Ha! I wouldn't delude myself if I were you." But she was beginning to appreciate the rumors countless students had circulated about Snape over the years. For a moment, she wondered if he was getting ready to kiss her, or bite her. Had he always been this tall?

His mouth neared her eyebrow, and his palm slid a bit lower down her back. "I think I'm now disposed to listen to your advice, Minerva. Sod the bloody past."

McGonagall cursed herself inwardly. Oh, she really should have refused that third glass of wine...

He touched her lips with his, and she started.

"What are you doing!"

"I don't know." His mouth grazed hers as he spoke. "This isn't technically a kiss, is it."

The students and staff also seemed uncertain as to whether Snape's caress constituted a kiss or not. They were sitting so close the edge of their seats, some actually fell off.

McGonagall's hand moved from Snape's shoulder to his chest, and she made a half-hearted attempt at pushing him away.

"Am I so repulsive?" he said, withdrawing.

"Not at all, how can you say such a thing."

"Then why are you-"

"Severus, I'm too old."

"No."

"I'm almost seventy."

His mouth was hovering near hers again. "I couldn't care less."

She reached up despite herself, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "And you're-"

"Old enough to know what I'm doing."


	13. Heating up the dungeons

A number of people in the room were already demanding their winnings, convinced that The Kiss no less than a second away. Then loud groans and a few cheers were heard when Snape, instead of pressing his lips against McGonagall's, brushed his mouth along her cheekbone and kissed her near the earlobe, just beneath her jawline.

McGonagall, for her part, let out something like a squeak, and Snape felt her shiver in his arms. At last he raised his head, a brazen expression lining his features.

_Head of House of Slytherin, 1. Head of House of Gryffindor, 0._

"Would you mind telling me just what it is you're up to, Professor Snape?" she said.

"My dear Minerva, how can I disappoint young Mister Potter after he saved my life? As I told you, he's wagered that I won't kiss you. I gather the unspoken understanding was that the kiss had to involve mouth to mouth contact."

The heated discussions taking place all over the room were an indication that it probably should have been a spoken understanding. Did a kiss below the ear count? Eventually, some of the Slytherins realized that the record player was silent and they scrambled to put another song on.

"We really should sit down," McGonagall said, regaining her composure. Her arms slid from around his neck.

"I must confess," Snape said with a sigh, "that I am getting a bit tired."

"Well, no wonder, with all this..." She huffed. "Foolishness. Let's go back to the Head Table. I suppose your leg hurts? If you'd listened-"

"Don't tell me that you're going to start mollycoddling me again. It only aches a little, that's all."

She took his arm and they left the dance floor, much to everyone's dismay. Snape was limping slightly; Dumbledore grabbed the Potions Master's cane, and met them halfway.

"Here, Severus. I believe all the festivities have begun to take their toll on you, lad," Dumbledore said.

"Yes, Headmaster. I think perhaps I should be heading for my quarters. Though it's still early-"

"Don't you start fretting, Severus. No one will be upset if you leave now, they know you need your rest," Dumbledore said. "Off you go."

"I'll be calling it a night as well, Albus," McGonagall said.

"Of course. I daresay I'll be retiring myself soon. Good night to you both."

Snape and McGonagall slowly exited the Great Hall, the Potions Master reassuring many concerned students that he was fine, only worn out.

Three persistent Gryffindors, however, were tougher to convince.

"You weren't limping earlier, professor," Harry said.

"I may have had too much exercise for one evening, Mister Potter. Nothing a few hours of sleep won't fix."

"I hope you have a good night, Professor Snape," Harry said.

"And sweet dreams," Hermione said.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Incidentally, I assume you are one of the few present who didn't put any money on the table, as it were?"

"Certainly not, oh! I mean, no. I mean, I don't know what you mean, sir."

McGonagall cocked her eyebrow in a manner reminiscent of the Potions Master.

"I see," Snape said, his voice imbued with mock reproof. "Well, don't stay up too late, children."

"Yes, sir. Good night, professors," Harry, Hermione and Ron said in unison.

Once Snape and McGonagall were a good distance away from the Great Hall, he began to laugh.

"Amused, are you?" McGonagall said. "I can tell you that Albus will be hearing from me in the very near future."

"Come now, Minerva. You of all people should know what to expect from a fellow Gryffindor."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear what you just said."

"The Headmaster is a born prankster. To be honest, I've always wondered how it was that you were sorted into Gryffindor, you've much more in common with Ravenclaws. Sensible, highly intelligent-"

"The Sorting Hat definitely made no mistakes in your case."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She was about to reply when she heard his sharp inward breath. "Severus?"

"It's all right," he said, gripping her arm tightly. "You were correct, I overextended myself."

"Perhaps we should go to the Hospital Wing."

"Not bloody likely," he said. "I want to lie down in my own bed, in my own quarters. I've spent enough time in the bloody Hospital Wing-" He grit his teeth, and slowed his pace even more. "To last me a bloody lifetime."

"Let's get you to the dungeons as quickly as possible, then," McGonagall said.

He nodded.

By the time they reached his private quarters, his brow was moist with sweat. He took the wards off his door and she helped him sit in an armchair.

"Thank you, Minerva." His head fell back and he closed his eyes. "That's better."

She bent down and gripped his leg. His eyelids flew open.

"What are you doing?"

She placed his leg on the ottoman in front of the chair. "I'll have a look to make sure."

"It's not necessary."

McGonagall shivered and glanced at the darkened fireplace. "Do you ever heat this place up, Severus?" She muttered a spell and the neglected pile of logs burst into flames. "It's so damp in here, I'm amazed you don't suffer from perpetual colds."

"Snakes are cold-blooded."

"You're not a snake, just a Slytherin." She undid the buttons at his ankle, and then gently started to remove his shoe.

He hissed.

"I'm sorry," she said, stopping. She looked at him. "Or was that your impression of a snake?"

"Very funny."

A few more careful tugs, and she dropped his shoe on the floor. "Your foot is swollen."

"I can very well see that- Ouch! Would you stop messing about with it?"

She sat on the ottoman, put his lower extremity on her lap, and began to take his sock off.

"Minerva," he said, his voice faltering, "I- I appreciate your solicitude, but an ice pack would be preferable, I think."

"Keep still and count yourself lucky I'm not flooing Poppy. Look at this -your ankle is turning blue. Do you have any salves handy?"

"On the bedside table, in my chambers."

"_Accio_ salve." The small glass container flew across the room into her hand. "You know, you'll really have to make sure these rooms are warmed properly from now on. Humidity will only make your condition worse."

She rubbed the salve into his skin and gently massaged his ankle. He squirmed.

"Am I hurting you?" she said.

"No, but... No."

Her eyes darted in his direction. The look on his face was clearly one of discomfort. She recalled his smugness after he'd kissed her neck; his confidence had completely vanished now that she was the one touching him.

Or perhaps the effect of the wine he'd had was fading.

"Relax," she said quietly. "Soon you'll feel less pain."

"I know."

She worked in silence for a while, and his tension gradually decreased.

"You really had me going for a minute back in the Great Hall," she said.

"Oh?" He yawned, then looked at her and realization hit him. "Oh. Minerva, truly, I apologize. It's not like me to be so... forward. The whole evening went to my head."

"Don't be sorry." She chuckled, and shrugged. "It's not every day an old woman like me is seduced by an attractive younger man."

He straightened in his chair. "You must be joking."

"What did you think, Severus? I assure you it's been some time since I've had suitors knocking on my door."

"That's not what I meant."

McGonagall stared at him.

_Am I so repulsive?_

Her face softened and she said, "I'm the one who's sorry, Severus. That you didn't kiss me. On the lips, as the students would say."

"Really," he said, turning red.

"I can't believe it. I've managed to put a little color in your cheeks."

His mouth thinned. "It's too hot in here with that blasted fireplace."

"How's your foot now?"

"Much improved."

"Do you need help getting to bed?"

"I'll be all right."

She set his leg on the ottoman and rose. "Well. Thank you for a lovely evening, Severus. And congratulations again."

"Thank you."

She walked to the door, then paused.

"Minerva?" Snape said.

She marched back to where he sat, and grasped his shoulders.

"I was thinking just now, Severus, that I need to remind the both of us that I am a Gryffindor.

And without further ado, she kissed him.


	14. The color of hope

A small sound escaped his lips, but it was muffled by her mouth gently pressed against his. He wasn't moving at all and she was about to pull away, then felt his hesitant fingers grip the edge of her robes near the base of her neck.

When she finally withdrew, he whispered, "Are you positive it's been that long since you've entertained smitten admirers?"

"Oh, quite." But she was smiling. "Though I think we've had enough excitement for one day." She looked at his ankle. "You're sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine. I may even have a sweet dream or two now, thanks to you." He shut his eyes.

"Go lie down before you fall asleep in your chair."

"I suspect you're right," he said, and with a little help from McGonagall, got to his feet. She gave him his cane and they stared at each other for a few moments.

"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast?" he finally said.

"Glad to hear you're leaving your reclusive habits behind you."

"The incentives are becoming more difficult to resist. Good night, Minerva."

"Good night, Severus."

He watched her exit his quarters, then slowly limped to his bedroom where he changed into a nightgown and curled on the bed. Exhausted by all the day's momentous events, he soon drifted off to sleep. His last conscious thought was that he could no longer bear to be unhappy.

The next morning, when Snape awoke, he made a decision: his old life was over. He would forgive himself for the many mistakes he'd made in the past. He would rediscover whoever had lain buried underneath all those layers of bitterness, hurt and anger he'd spent most of his life building.

He rose and walked to the bathroom. Instead of avoiding the mirror as he'd so often done, he studied his reflection, trying to see himself the way McGonagall had described him the evening before.

_An attractive younger man._

A smirk threatened to twist his mouth, but he squelched it. He knew she hadn't been lying. He gazed at his features.

Maybe... there was some truth to her words.

If so, he should take better care of himself.

He filled the bath with hot water, stepped in, and reclined against the porcelain surface. Then he murmured a charm, and the steam that was wafting from the tub was infused with the scent of cinnamon, cloves and ginger. He breathed deeply, and relaxed even more.

Relaxation. That _was_ nice.

Almost as nice as the children's eagerness to speak to him, to be with him. Even though it'd been against his will, once his protective barriers were destroyed and his exposed wounds treated, isolation was revealed as the cause of all that had ailed him from the very beginning.

It was better to be loved. He couldn't deny it anymore.

It was better to _love_...

He washed himself, then put on his bathrobe and went to his closet.

"Time for a change, I think."

He waved his hand across a set of black robes and said, "_Veritas coloris_." Immediately the thick cloth turned into an emerald shade of green.

An amused smile wavered on his lips.

_Hope_.

He dressed, grabbed his cane, and left the dungeons.

[_]

_Finis._

[_]

Thank you for reading... I hope you enjoyed my little story._  
_


End file.
